


Wardogs

by Commissar_Rasher



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cyborgs, F/M, Gen, M/M, Master/Pet, Military, Mind Control, Multi, Pack Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 03:47:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7418635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commissar_Rasher/pseuds/Commissar_Rasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in a near future where cybernetic battlesuits can give soldiers incredible powers, Wardogs follows one such pack of operators. Their suits mimic large canine bodies, and influence the pilots minds, altering perception and behavior to better fit the role of attack dogs. Dealing with the instincts, drives and desires of powerful canine beasts, they are directed by a human officer who they regard as their master.</p>
<p>Story contains adult themes including violence, pseudo real world conflict, subtle mind control, petplay, master/pet relationships, and pack dynamics. Future chapters may contain graphic sex but such content will be warned of in a disclaimer and is not integral to the story, nor is the point of the story simply to be porn with plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[0500]  
[Some sandy shithole on the far side of the world.]  
  
I woke up, blinking away sleep and slowly getting out of bed with a deep groan. We'd been in these barracks for about a week and by now we all felt right at home. The bunks and been removed, lest more be destroyed, though we only let them take the metal frames. The mattresses, blankets and pillows were strewn across the floor, some ripped open, feathers and chunks of foam scattered about. Nobody could have mistaken this for a normal barracks, even before the unit had pissed on the outer walls to mark it as theirs.  
  
I'd dragged my shit to one of the corners and made a little den for myself, blankets pulled close. It was pointless of course, the suit was climate controlled and comfy, but still it felt right to make my own den, even in the den we shared.  
  
The others were waking up as well, one by one. Getting up and stretching, fanged maws yawning drowsily, tails wagging as we saw each other, giving a yipping greeting. Actual speech was filtered into electronic barks and growls, even if you overheard it or hacked into the radio, if you didn't have our pack's encryption key then it would just be somewhat synthetic animal noises. Even so, sometimes a bark was just a bark.  
  
Six Wardogs going about their morning routine is quite a sight to see. If you haven't seen a Wardog before, trying to imagine if an F-22 hatefucked a dire wolf, and you'd be close. Sleek grey plates over dark synth flesh, moving with the kind of grace that only a living thing could get right. To look at us you'd never know there was a human being inside this armor.  
  
Truth be told I forget myself sometimes. The armor is so insanely comfortable to wear, the soft inner layer pressing directly against the skin, worn naked. Perfectly ventilated and climate controlled. Then you have the haptic feedback directly into my neural jack, I feel everything that touches this metal skin and black synthetic flesh, it's all real.  
  
That's not even getting into the way the suit messes with your head on design. Jacked straight into your brain, altering it in subtle ways, electrical and chemical stimulation. Nothing crazy mind you, but subtly altering your perceptions, giving you little punishments and rewards for doing or thinking certain things. Conditioning you, shaping you into a hound to be turned loose.  
  
That was one of the reasons the pack rarely left its armor on deployment. Oh you could do it, there was no rule against it, one mental command and the suit would release the human it carried. But switching back and forth between human and wardog was taxing, headaches, confusion.  
  
Bandit had left his armor once in the barracks, it was... weird. Of course we all knew each other out of armor, we were war buddies, of course we did. But seeing him exit his armor alone, in the midst of the den, it felt wrong. He was no longer pack, no longer one of them, he looked on them with unfamiliar, almost worried eyes, and they didn't know how to treat this strange packmate who wasn't one of them anymore.  
  
They wanted Bandit back, not this human who happened to animate him, Bandit sitting empty and silent, dead. The human had quickly crawled back into the armor and Bandit was back again, and they all greeted him with much barking and licking. They never left their armor willy nilly after that again.  
  
Recognition between them was a special thing. The Wardog armors were all essentially identical, same design of course. But each one conformed and adjusted to the body of the user, leading to notable differences in size and shape. Beyond that, each one personalized their armor further. Command had initially resisted it, but eventually some shrink had convinced them that self expression and appearance was vital to them forming their in-armor personas. So as long as they didn't paint 'shoot me' in giant neon letters it was let go.  
  
Then of course there were the different ways that they animated each suit, ear position, body language, smell. Sure there was the AR popups that would happily give you a full biography of each other at a mental command. Of course they'd set it to never show the pilot's human name or face, that was irrelevant, that wasn't who they were right now.  
  
Me? I'm Fenris. Scandinavian family, little brother thought it was cool, sue me. Mostly black color with some lighter grey markings to give a little depth, tracings over the muzzle and underbelly.  
  
Bandit, previously mentioned, was already up and prancing about. The smallest of us with his ears flopping happily and tail wagging. His most distinctive feature was the big black spot over his right eye. It was a double ended joke, making him look more like the kind of dog a 1950s TV show kid might have, and being the exact size and position that the scope of his marksman rifle would cover while aiming.  
  
Titan had opted for a thin tail and his ears often stood straight up. Very Doberman Pinscher, He was probably the most disciplined of us, the one to remind us that sometimes rules actually mattered. Though by human standards he was still quite wild.  
  
Jackal had something of a more fanciful design, body markings reminiscent of sculptures of Anubis. Our tracking expert, quiet, preferring barks and growls to even translated speech.  
  
Buck was the medic, the way his tail curled made everyone think of a husky, more so the way he carried injured people on his back. His body was light colored, with a grey cross on the side, nobody wanted to wear a red target. Not like he was an unarmed medic in any case.  
  
Duke was the golden lab, the one who always mediated conflicts within the group, one way or another, he kept us together. Even packmates had squabbles.  
  
Bandit trotted over to me, giving me a cheery look. <Morning!> He yipped.  
  
<You're looking chipper this morning.> I growled back, padding along sedately as he pranced excitedly.  
  
<Excited is all, we finally get to go out and do shit, I'm sick of this den.>  
  
I roll my eyes. <We all are Bandit, this base has never had Wardogs before, CO is trying to ease the humies into dealing with us. You chasing that HEMTT in full 'mailman' mode did not endear us to the locals.>  
  
<But... I had to chase it.> Bandit protested.  
  
I rolled my eyes. Smallest and youngest, at least as far as wearing his armor. The instincts were raw and difficult to control, he was still learning. The truck was driving away, running, ergo he had to chase it. Standard canine logic. I stared him down.  
  
His tail slowly stopped wagging and he tucked it between his legs. <Forgive me, I was weak.>  
  
I licked his cheek. <It's fine, they carry extra tires for a reason. And they do make great chew toys.>  
  
Bandit perked up instantly and barked, before hopping off to jump up and down on a Titan-shaped lump under some pillows. <Wake up! Wake up! We get to go kill shit today!>  
  
As the big doberman jerked awake, sending Bandit skittering across the den floor, I walked past Duke, who was happily gnawing on a piece of metal that used to be part of a bunk bed, warped and half torn apart from his teeth.  
  
<Sleep good?> I asked.  
  
He nodded, holding his stick between his paws. <Yeah, ready to roll when she gives the word.>  
  
I nodded. There weren't any real ranks in the pack, only personalities. Sometimes one of us would be in charge, sometimes another, it all depended on who needed to be in charge most, and who was most comfortable there. The strict rules and roles of rank and discipline had no place in the pack, they didn't work.  
  
<Yeah, any idea what this might be?>  
  
Duke shrugged. <Nah man, probably same old shit.>  
  
<Ain't that the truth.> I growled, heading off.  
  
Duke was up, partaking of his usual morning ritual of licking his balls. Yes we have balls. The first gen suits didn't, but it turns out that when you turn your average serviceman into a biomechanical killing machine, fill his head with animal urges and instincts and encourage not leaving the suit for months on end, giving them a symbolic castration isn't good for morale. So yes, we have balls, and sheaths, and dicks, and anyone who gets weirded out and bitches about that fact should go wear a chastity belt for the next six months and then come back and lecture us.  
  
<Morning. Taste different today?>  
  
The medic chuckled, getting up. <Just practicing good hygiene, gotta be at my best.>  
  
<I doubt she's going to check down there.> I said, flicking an ear like a raised brow.  
  
The husky morph tucked his tail for a moment and looked away, before snapping his nose up. <She's here.>  
  
That got our attention.  
  
Pack dynamics aren't what you read about in old books. There's no 'alpha' or 'omega', and that's not true here. We're packmates, buddies, friends, we get along, sometimes we growl and snap but we make up, and we move on. We're equals, and we look out for each other.  
  
Those outside the pack were less important, not worthless, not enemies, but the humie personnel and civilians were on the outside of a very tight knit and loyal group, while we could have decent relations with them, they weren't of us, weren't pack, and never would be.  
  
She was a different matter. She wasn't pack. She *owned* the pack.  
  
We all smelled her coming and got up, looking to the door which swung open, flicking the lights on as she entered. She had a name and a rank, but both of those were meaningless. She was packmaster, and we were her hounds. Nobody who hasn't been a Warhound can understand how profound that simple relationship is.  
  
"Morning boys, well rested?" She asked.  
  
We all nodded, giving little growls and quiet yips in the affirmative. None of us moved, none of us looked her in the eye, our gaze on the floor. An outsider might have thought the scene was tense, but it was respectful.  
  
Silently, she held out her hand, the back of it towards us. One by one, we walked up and gave her hand a lick, and she petted us on the head.  
  
"Good boys." She said, smiling. I wish everyone could feel how utterly satisfying and happy hearing those two words always made us.  
  
"Brass is finally letting you off the leash, some locals fucked up in a very big way and the pack is going in to deal with it. There's a chopper waiting with your gear, I'll brief you on the way." She turned towards the door and walked out.  
  
"Heel."  
  
We followed without question.  
  
The Chinook was empty, save for us and our gear. Standard weapons, nothing too fancy. While we often stayed in quadruped mode, we could shift to bipedal in an instant, it was needed to operate normal weapons and technology. In our off time, we were most comfortable as dogs.  
  
Packmaster walked in, and we made room. The chopper dusted off and we started getting our gear, strapping and clipping on weapons, ammo and grenades to each others various weapons hardpoints.  
  
"Some local extremists hit a village full of people we happen to like." She began when we had our loadouts set. "Standard smash and grab, went in, made a lot of noise and took hostages, they're demanding a rather unreasonably long list of concessions if their families ever want to see them again. Instead, we're sending you."  
  
We growled in anticipation, looking to each other with eager eyes.  
  
"Mission is simple, go in, rescue the hostages and get them out safely. I'd prefer if none of the kidnappers remain alive by this time tomorrow, but your priority is to get those people out, and you all come home alive. I couldn't stand to see anything happen to you boys."  
  
We nodded, packmaster was protective, and we liked that. Made us feel loved.  
  
"We're dropping you near the village that got hit. We don't know exactly where these bastards are hiding, but one of the villagers got in a lucky shot." She produced a bloody scrap of bandages, tossing it towards us, and quickly we all circled around and started sniffing it. Jackal gave her a silent nod, he had the scent.  
  
She nodded back, the back ramp lowering, twenty feet above the ground. "Sic 'em." She ordered.  
  
We bounded out the back of the transport, howling and barking in excited freedom for a moment, before we started sniffing the air. Jackal barked once, and soon we were bounding after him, howling and barking as we pounded across the shifting sands.  
  
<Interesting that we got picked for a hostage rescue mission.> Titan wondered aloud as we loped across the sand, following Jackal's nose. <Considering we're the local boogeymen.>  
  
<Maybe that's exactly the reason packmaster got us for this.> Duke wondered. <We scare the locals and even the rest of the base, being big damn heroes and rescuing some poor trapped civilians might make them warm up to us.>  
  
I considered it. <Yeah sounds about right. This might make the humies stop pissing themselves when they see us.>  
  
<That only happened once.> Titan rumbled. <And I think he was drunk.>  
  
<True.>  
  
We ran in silence after that, before Jackal eventually slowed his pace to a lope, the pack entering some rocky foothills. Jackal growled low, enemies near.  
  
We moved with practiced ease, Bandit checking high before loping off, low and slow to a good vantage point to get set up with his marksman rifle. Titan took point, me and Buck watched his flanks. Jackal circled around the far side and Duke hung back a little to observe and direct.  
  
It was nothing special. Little compound, a few huts of rough stone and mortar. Low wall of similar construction, no electricity, no security system, no visible movement.  
  
That wasn't a problem. We could smell them, many humans who didn't bathe terribly often. We smelled cordite and potentially explosive chemicals, gun oil, and prey animals. We smelled the acrid stink of fear, we'd found our target.  
  
Jackal circled around the far side of the little compound, we crept closer, sticking to shadows and concealment, watching shadowed movement through windows. When all was in position, Duke barked one word.  
  
<Kill.>  
  
Jackal loped forward, dark, lean and graceful, and vaulted through one of the open windows without a sound. Screams of terror and pain sounded moments later, along with a panicked gunshot.  
  
Curses and questions and shouting from inside the larger building, the one where the fear-scent came from.  
  
<Breach.> Duke barked, rushing forward to bound over the wall and into the compound. He switched to bipedal, rushing to the smaller bounding to gun down a fighter trying to escape the carnage within.  
  
We barked affirmatives and stacked up on the door. I switched bipedal, forepaws snapping open to clawed hands, snatching my carbine from my back as the others did the same. I growled I was ready and Titan kicked the door clear off its hinges, leaving a paw shaped indent in the metal.  
  
I was in, carbine up and sweeping, moving by scent and hearing as much as sight. Hiss of fuse, scent of burning powder, pipe bomb has been lit.  
  
<Flash out.> I growl, more to inform than warn. Our bodies were immune to mere flashbangs. The stun grenade bounced into the room, going off with a loud crash. The dropped pipe bomb went off a moment later.  
  
As Titan entered to gun down any remaining fighters, I entered the next room. A man was reaching for a rifle, I blew his brains out and moved on, next room.  
  
<Clear!> <Clear.> I could hear the others growl behind me. I entered the last room, in time to see someone pull a crying civilian out of a cage, putting a gun to her head and holding her up as a shield.  
  
He started issuing the usual demands, free passage, going away, letting him live, no particular order. I blocked his escape, growling out low as my AR threw up a friendly contact sign moving along the wall behind him, outside.  
  
The tone of my growl changed when the blip was right behind the man. Wait... wait... He pointed the gun at me, and I barked. The wall behind him exploded, a pair of clawed hands reaching in to grab the man and drag him back out through the hole. His scream turned into a wet, choked noise, and soon only the sounds of tearing flesh could be heard as Jackal presumably ate him.  
  
The civilian stood there, terrified, tears going down her face. She couldn't have been more than 14. I listened, ears perked as the pack barked the all clear. I replaced my weapon on my back, getting back down on all fours, the girl backing away in fear.  
  
I let out a mournful noise, lowering myself and yowling. "I won't hurt you." I spoke, careful and clearly, translated into the local dialect.  
  
She and the others in the cages froze as I spoke, as if they just plain didn't expect it. Not that I could blame them, they had little explanation for things like us beyond 'demons' that made sense really.  
  
"I'm here to take you home. We won't hurt you." I said again.  
  
She still looked scared. Slowly, I got on the ground, laying down, before I rolled over onto my back, paws in the air, tail flicking in the gesture of nonthreatening submission. Still letting out a sad whine.  
  
Slowly, she crept closer, gingerly reaching out a hand, I touched a paw to her hand. "You're warm." She said, the only thing that seemed to come to her mind.  
  
"I'm alive." I said simply.  
  
"Are you... a person?"  
  
I was quiet for a long moment. "I'm a Wardog."  
  
It took a little while, the others keeping their distance at first until I'd gotten their moderately relaxed by playing the big friendly dog. Buck assessed them for injuries and decided they were fit to move, and that getting them out of here would help them mentally. Jackal had licked his chops clean of blood and bits of person, having eaten his fill before moving out without so much as a yip.  
  
I headed out, surveying the little compound. Lots of dead bad guys, some had tried to flee and been picked off by Bandit from on high. No injuries or damage reported by the pack, the civilians hadn't been held long enough to suffer abuse that needed immediate attention.  
  
I let out a happy snort and nodded, heading over to the side of the house, before hiking my leg up and taking a piss. Roll your eyes if you like but only a Wardog knows the deep and abiding satisfaction of marking something as yours, especially a recently claimed battlefield. This place was ours now, and everyone should know it was us who did this.  
  
That ritual done, I loped off to rejoin the pack and we went out a ways into the sand, Duke getting on the radio with Packmaster to call for evac before Buck rattled off their medical condition. That done we waited on a dune for a little bit, the locals skittish around us, though I liked to think that was mostly nerves though. The girl I'd saved lay her hand on my side though. That meant a lot to me.  
  
Soon the chopper came back, and we herded the civilians onboard.  
  
<I feel more like a sheepdog than a Wardog!> Bandit yapped, and we all groaned. Packmaster was waiting for us, and we all lay about her feet as she looked over our reports.  
  
"Looks good." She said simply, before asking the usual questions about the mission and results, I left that to the others to answer, putting my head on my paws, though I didn't dare nap in front of Packmaster.  
  
The ride back to base was long and boring, Packmaster seeming pleased as she professionally went over her reports on a little touchpad, politely but firmly stating that she was not going to hold an immediate debriefing with the CO, as she needed to tend to her pack after their mission.  
  
The humie CO didn't push, not understanding the intricacies of pack dynamics or how important this was, but he understood that she was the expert, and didn't want to do anything to upset her half dozen canine killing machines.  
  
When they got back, she sent them to the barracks. "Wait there boys, I'll be back." She promised, and they went in, immediately becoming far less professional.  
  
Bandit was bouncing around like a five year old on caffeine going over every awesome shot he made. Buck and Duke ended up grabbing both ends of a metal pipe and playing tug-o-war, growling and tugging as their claws scratched more claw marks in the floor.  
  
Titan humored Bandit's excited jabbering before pinning him to the ground and licking him a few times, and I promptly jumped on them in a dogpile that soon melted down into happy barking and tussling on one of the beds.  
  
We were so wrapped up in our play we didn't notice Packmaster had come back until she whistled for us. But she didn't seem angry. She was smiling and dragging a cooler in with her, us crowding around.  
  
"You all did very good today." She said warmly, not holding back her smile. "And I think my boys deserve a special treat." She said, opening the cooler and pulling out... the most glorious thing I've seen in weeks.  
  
Raw, red, juicy... real... goddamn... steak!  
  
She waggled it back and forth in her hand, our snouts following it back and forth like a pendulum. We all sat around in front of her, some letting out quiet little whines. I am not ashamed to admit I was one of them.  
  
"But who should get it first..." She said, tapping her chin with one finger and giving us a knowing little grin, the whole pack edging closer to her and letting out a collective whine.  
  
"Fenris... you kept your cool in a very tense moment, and a little girl is alive because of you." She said, reaching down to pet my ears, before giving me the first steak. I woofed happily and took it, wagging my tail to show how happy I was.  
  
After that she gave out one to each of the others, praising them one by one in their own ways. She teased Buck a little, making him stand on hind legs to grab the meat. She tossed Bandit's so he jumped in the air and did a backflip to catch it. She didn't say a word to Jackal, kissing the top of his head before giving him his treat.  
  
We all ate in happy silence as she watched us with pride, which felt even better than this damn steak I was eating. When the food was done, it was time for more play, and now Packmaster was in among us like she was one of us, no longer having to pretend for stuffy humies or keep up pretenses.  
  
She petted and praised and scratched, and tossed chunks of rebar for us to catch and tussle over.  
  
I almost melted inside when she sat down in front of me and started petting my ears. "Who's my good boy?" She asked, ruffling them as I whimpered in pure bliss, tail wagging loudly as it smacked about. "You are! Yes you are!" She said, pushing me onto my back before she rubbed my belly, one of my legs kicking.  
  
I sometimes overhear people wondering how anyone could consent to be a Wardog. To have the system reach into your mind and make you something else, something not quite the same as the person who put on the suit. The conditioning, the change of personality and perspective. I wish I could make those people feel the pure, simple, and all consuming joy I felt right then.  
  
I have a strong pack, a packmaster who appreciates and praises me, and I get to do cool shit like kill bad guys and save people, and instead of paperwork and safety briefs, I get juicy steaks and belly rubs.  
  
I am powerful. I am needed. And I am loved.  
  
I am a Wardog, and there is nothing I would rather be.


	2. Lazy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wardogs finally get to stretch their legs.

After that mission things got a little more tolerable. Previously we'd been stuck in the barracks for extended period of time. True a little peace and quiet was nice, but cabin fever gets to be a problem and there's only so much time we could stay in a small confined space before we ran out of things to chew on.  
  
The whole pack was getting ornery and irritable, not good things for deadly juggernauts of battle armor and synth flesh. There was growling and snapping, and even Bandit was starting to get twitchy. Finally though it seemed they would be letting us out to get some fresh air and stretch our legs a bit.  
  
I got up out of bed, giving myself a good long stretch, arching my back and whining before shaking it all out. At least synthe flesh didn't get cramps from laying around idly for too long. Tail wagging, I went over to the window, putting my front paws on the windowsill and looking out, pushing the window open with my nose.  
  
Same base. Same sand and same fence, same prefab buildings and same town on the far side. But today we could finally get out and explore it a bit, look around, escape this damn confining building and maybe get to interact with people. He loved the pack, but having nobody else to be around was driving them mad, they needed space.  
  
After much groaning and grumbling, they eventually all got up and ate, before gathering around the door as Packmaster arrived, giving them all a pleased smile. They went through the little ritual again, licking her hand and being petted, before they could let themselves relax around her.  
  
"Well I've finally convinced the base commander that you won't eat anyone if I let you get out and stretch your legs." She said, the hounds chuckling to each other. "But I do expect you all to be on your best behavior." She said, giving them a stern look.  
  
I tucked my tail and lowered my head, giving an obedient whine, the others doing the same.  
  
"No chasing trucks, no chewing up anything that's not obviously junk, no devouring the contents of the pantry, no putting people in the hospital by roughousing." Her hands were on her hips, giving them all a stern glare, making sure they got the message. "Other than that, have fun." She said, warming at once, and we relaxed too, barking happily and coming forward to get petted before she stood aside and let us out.  
  
My first steps out were tentative, head hung low and wary, glancing about as the others filed out around me. Whenever we'd left the barracks before, it was to follow Packmaster someplace specific, and when we were told to 'heel' we knew how to act. Eyes forward, mouth shut, follow. Being let out without specific direction like this was always uncomfortable for a brief moment.  
  
I looked back to Packmaster, and she gave me an encouraging nod. I gave my packmates a bark, feeling the giddy energy starting to rise up in me again before I turned again, digging my paws into the dirt and taking off across the compound, the pack in hot pursuit.  
  
We flashed past the motor pool, grunts looking up from maintaining and cleaning vehicles as we sped past in a storm of barking and flying dust. We did a complete curcuit of the compound before stopping, sniffing the air and yapping about whatever we smelled, before everyone started to split up and go their own way. Jackal just vanished behind a dune, Bandit going off towards the motor pool, Buck following the smell of food towards the mess.  
  
I was left unsure exactly what to do, starting to wander about a little aimlessly, eyes up and looking about as I soaked in the sights and smells of this place. I'd barely gotten a chance to glimpse it before, not a terrible little posting either. At least I assumed so, the position was nice and the air was clean, lots of sun, I bet the night sky looked spectacular here without many electrical lights to blot them out.  
  
I was so lost in thought I didn't hear the door opening nearby as I walked past one of the buildings, several men in fatigues coming out. Whatever they were talking about was quickly replaced with a loud "Holy shit!" By the leader of the trio who backed up into his comrades, making them stumble.  
  
I stopped, looking over to them and cocking my head curiously at their antics. The lead serviceman got back up and dusted himself off, the others grunting as he'd pushed them back into the wall.  
  
"Shit, it's one of those Wardogs." One of them said, looking him over.  
  
"Don't talk like he's not right there." The other said sideways, nervous. "He can hear you."  
  
"I didn't realize they were that big, I thought they were supposed to be like dogs."  
  
"There's a person inside there, remember?"  
  
I pawed at the ground and whined loudly, not wanting them to continue that line of discussion, and talking like I wasn't here.  
  
All eyes turned to me again, and I lowered my head and let my ears droop, hopefully waging my tail.  
  
"What's it doing..." One of them whispered.  
  
I rolled my eyes. "Trying to not scare the shit out of you?"  
  
They jumped slightly, it's always weird for them to hear a human voice coming from the canine body. It's why I usually stick to canine body language, trying to do a mix of both usually resulted in the uncanny valley that freaked people out even more. People knew what a dog was, be a dog, even if you're a big deadly one made of titanium and badass.  
  
"I don't bite." I said when they were still quiet, cocking my head and flicking my ears up. "Just exploring."  
  
The little group nodded, curiosity replacing surprise. "They ah... don't let you out much?"  
  
I shrugged. "Not lately, guess they had to keep telling you guys how to deal with us, right?"  
  
One of them rolled his shoulders. "Mostly just not to poke you or try to take away something you're chewing on. To be fair that's about what they say when the marines are passing through."  
  
We all had a good chuckle at that and I sat down, as curious about them as they seemed to be about me. "That's about right, I mean we're really not that bad." I turned my head, distracted by a noise.  
  
"So... why are you still in the suit?"  
  
I turned back, cocking my head and making a curious 'arou?'  
  
"I mean if you get R&R why are you still walking around in your gear?" He clarified. "My armor's saved my life but I wouldn't wear it around all the time."  
  
I nodded. "I'm comfortable like this. It's not just armor, it's what I am."  
  
They seemed confused. I rolled my eyes and whined. "The armor shapes your thoughts, my personality is a bit different in some ways, you get headaches if you take the armor on and off repeatedly on short notice. I'm perfectly comfortable and feel fine, so why not wear it all the time? I like it."  
  
They were nodding, slowly moving to stand around me, curious about the intricate design of my Wardog body. "So... you're fine looking like a big dog?" One of them asked.  
  
I stood up so they could see easier, feeling a little self conscious at the close inspection. "Fine with being treated like one, it's what I am."  
  
"That's kinda fucked up." One said.  
  
I rolled my eyes. "Don't knock it till you try it. It's clarity of purpose, I'm cared for, looked after, and when needed turned loose and then rewarded when it's done. I'm at peace and satisfied."  
  
They took a while to mull that over, one of them reaching up a hand but hesitating.  
  
"You may touch me." I said, seeing his reluctanct, almost laughing at the timid hand that started feeling my armor plates and synthetic flesh.  
  
"So they treat you good in your unit?" One of them asked, also tenderly moving to touch, surprised at how warm the armor felt.  
  
"I'm happy with my pack, yes. Packmaster treats us good, she gave us steak for doing well last time."  
  
"Real steak? Damn." One of them chuckled, his careful touches continuing down my back. "Hey can you feel this?"  
  
"Yes, we're good boys, good boys get steak. Yes I can feel that, it feels nice." I said, stretching my back a bit, tail wagging.  
  
The hand on my back became much more like actual petting, to my delight, as they considered it. "So... they treat you like a dog?"  
  
I gave that one a hard look. "Packmaster treats us well, we are her hounds, her pack. And she looks after us. When we do well we get rewarded and then we get sent out again when it's time. Mostly we just play in the barracks but now they let us out, it's nice."  
  
They seem a bit confused by it. I've seen it before, and heard of it. The confusion, the misplaced sympathy. How could anyone let themselves be made into a Wardog, to walk around on all fours and have people rub behind your ears and your mind influenced by the armor.  
  
But they don't understand how amazingly good this feels, the power at my beck and call, the companionship of my pack, the joy of Packmaster's approval. My life is simple, uncomplicated and satisfying. "I'm not ashamed of what I am." I said firmly, looking at them all one by one.  
  
"Yes, I am a hound, well cared for and well trained, and when I do well I am rewarded. That is as simple as it is. I feel nothing but pride in what I am. Do not feel sorry for me."  
  
They didn't understand, they couldn't, not unless they wore the suit. But they understood how strongly I felt about it, and seemed to respect my opinion.  
  
The group stayed for a little while longer, talking about a few other things and petting me before eventually moving on, which was saddening because petting is like... the third best thing in the universe. But all things must end and I was alone again, trotting across the base. I sniffed Buck inside the mess, and stood up against the wall to look in a window, seeing him going about and begging for food off people's tables.  
  
Seemed a little low, but then I saw how the humies were acting around him, relaxed, friendly. They'd give him scraps and pet his head. Clever bastard, he was the one who worried about our image a lot and here he was playing the big friendly dog for an entire mess hall, being completely harmless and getting fed at the same time.  
  
I was about to go in and start copying his routine when I heard the pounding footsteps. Turning just in time to duck Duke jumping past me, I hopped down with a loud bark.  
  
<Someone's frisky.> I said.  
  
Duke wagged his tail, lowering his chest to the ground and raising his backside in the standard 'let's play!' pose. Who was I to refuse?  
  
I leaped over, paws up and he jumped to meet me, tussling and clashing as we fell on each other in a clattering heap, kicking up a small dust storm as we wrestled.  
  
The noise quickly attracted attention and soon the doors and windows of the mess hall flung open and several dozen worried and confused humies were popping out to see what was going on. Buck wasn't there, presumably stealing unnatended food.  
  
"Did they go haywire?" I vaguely heard someone shout, giving a loud yip in response, tussling with Duke as he rolled me onto my back, rubbing his snout against me.  
  
"Nah... I think they're just playing. Dogs man."  
  
We roughhoused for a while, the onlookers getting quite a bit of amusement from our impromptu wrestling match, until eventually we were left panting, laying on top of each other and looking around at our adoring public.  
  
One of the bigger soldiers walked over, speaking with a thick drawl. "These boys look all hot and dusty, come on." He said, giving Duke a pat on the side and ruffling my ears. We hauled ourselves up, following after him as he went over to the motor pool. The big guy made an earsplitting whistle to the guys washing the trucks.  
  
"Hey! Got two more for you!"  
  
If getting petted is good, what followed was heaven. They hosed us down, then out came the wash cloths and the sponges and the soap, scrubbing and washing. The big guy must have owned dogs back home because he kept giving tips on how to handle us, maybe he's dealt with Wardogs before? He knew just how to treat us to make us just melt right there on the motor pool concrete. I rolled onto my back, whining happily as they scrubbed my belly, Duke groaning as the big guy scratched behind his ears, perfection.  
  
By the time they were done with us our every surface gleamed like a new car on the showroom floor, the two of us walking lankily away as the big man laughed good naturedly behind us.  
  
Buck met back up with us outside the mess, with some sauce on the side of his muzzle. <Damn, you boys look pretty.>  
  
Duke chuckled. <We should stop by the motor pool more often. You've got a thing, by the way." He said, scratching his own snout.  
  
Buck swore and tried licking it off, or rubbing it with a paw, the two of us chuckling at his predicament for a moment before I went over and licked it off myself.  
  
<Gah, thanks.> He growled, still licking.  
  
<You see Jackal?> I asked, looking around, sniffing for him.  
  
<Out sitting on a hilltop looking at the horizon.> Buck said, falling in with us as we went back towards the barracks, the sun going down on the horizon. <He should be back soon though.>  
  
We lay down outside the den, sitting in the shadow of the building and shooting the shit for a while, all of us feeling rather pleased at our day out. We got a lot of curious looks from passing servicemen but it was nothing unpleasant. We'll take polite interest over fear or misplaced concern.  
  
Bandit was the first to come back, carrying a small tree branch he'd convinced someone to throw for him, popping it down and curling up next to us to gnaw on it, him and Buck getting into a tug-o-war over the stick until it shattered completely. Titan and Jackal came slowly trotting back a while after that, the two quiet ones sitting down as we talked quietly. As evening turned to night, instinct made us lay closer together.  
  
It wasn't that we needed warmth, the suits saw to that, but it felt better to be close together with my packmates as it grew dark. I'd been right, the night sky was full of stars. We moved together until we were laying together in one big pile, wrapped around and draped over each other's bodies, watching the stars before one by one, drifting to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and thoughts, as always, much appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris has an out of body experience.

  
I walked beside Packmaster towards the workshop, tail tucked near my legs and head down a little. I wasn't sure if I should ask or not, though Packmaster caught onto my body language and petted my head to relax me a little.  
  
"What's wrong, boy?"  
  
I considered. "Have I done something wrong, Packmaster?"  
  
She shook her head. "What? Oh no, no no, sorry I should have explained more. We're just going to be doing a little upgrade on your armor, test out some hardware. You're not being punished."  
  
I sighed, relaxing after that. I'd been afraid Packmaster was taking me to be punished, when she'd pulled me alone out of the den. The building she let me into had a fairly well stocked looking tech bay. I resisted the urge to go around and start sniffing the components when Packmaster pointed to the techie.  
  
"Fenris, this is Caleb, he's going to be taking care of you."  
  
'Caleb' was a late twenties man in fatigues who gave me a friendly smile. I barked in greeting.  
  
"Hey there big guy. Now all I'm going to be doing is replacing some hardware in your targeting computer, should help it run a little bit faster and let you track more targets, if it's working properly,  you'll have to test it a bit. It's a simple enough installation but considering how deeply buried the computer is in the suits workings, I'm going to have to have you get out of your suit."  
  
I froze for a long moment, looking up to Packmaster with a nervous whine. She gave me an understanding smile and petted my ears, scratching behind one in the way she knew I liked. "It's okay, it's only for a little while, promise. Can you get out, please?"  
  
I nodded, giving her hand a little lick before getting up and going over to the harness that would help the humies work on my battle armor, whining and flinching a little when they hooked up some cables to suspend it. When I was told they were ready, I took a deep breath and gave the mental command.  
  
One by one, my senses shut down, leaving me hanging in darkness. I wondered if this is what being dead feels like, a void without substance or sense. Then with a hiss and pop, the armored shell began to open and unfold. Profound vertigo washed over me as skin I'd almost forgot I had suddenly felt the insulating, cushioning gel layer pull off of it, being hit by air for the first time in months.  
  
Try to imagine someone casually unzipping your chest and suddenly blowing hot air onto your lungs and heart, that's what I felt like right now, my vital organs being pulled from their protective body in a process that was no less disturbing for being painless. I flopped about like a fish out of water, feeling out the shape of my own natural body once again. Everything was still dark, why was it dark?  
  
I felt fingers on my face, growling in response, even though the noise was wrong it felt good. "Easy, easy." A familiar voice said, pulling the mask off. Oh right... those things. I'd forgotten I was wearing those inside the armor. The armor's senses were tied directly into my neural jack on the back of my neck, but there was also a mask and contact lenses directly accessing my eyes, which now watered painfully as I looked around. Blinking, I must remember to let my eyes blink, they're made of flesh not glass and metal.  
  
Packmaster and the techie were standing over me, Packmaster wearing a worried expression as she helped me out of the armored shell, letting me lean on her as I took unsteady steps out onto the concrete floor, uncomfortably hard beneath soft feet. "You're good, you're good." She kept telling me, and I nodded, looking around. Everything was different, from a different perspective, less sharp and without the augmented reality overlays I'd gotten used to.  
  
"I'm fine." I said quietly, reaching up to rub my throat, it was going to get sore if I talked to much, I remembered. It was coming back to me, bit by bit, all the innate memory and understanding the suit kept suppressed, without its influence it was all flowing back. It was always like this after getting out, especially on short notice.  
  
"You're going to have to put this on." Packmaster said, offering me a set of fatigues.  
  
"Yes... of course Packmaster." My hands fumbled with the clothes, remembering one piece at a time how they went on. Careful, don't catch your dick in the zipper, it just hangs out all the time now, I already missed having a sheath.  
  
Lacing up the boots took a little while, but Packmaster kept the techie from helping me, knowing I wanted to do it myself. Eventually I got it right, fumbling with my fingers a bit before standing back up. It was coming back to me, it always did, the things the armor keeps suppressed waking up and being remembered. Body language, behavior, thought. It was all going to give me a headache.  
  
"How do you feel?" She asked, looking over my clothed self with approval, seeing everything was in order.  
  
"Smaller." I eventually settled on.  
  
She nodded, giving my shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "It's just for a little while, you'll be back to your old self by tomorrow." She assured me.  
  
I nodded, looking over to my Wardog body, and she let go of my shoulder. Caleb was already elbow deep in the mechanical guts, starting to deconstruct the targeting computer as I walked around the quiet machine, gently touching the unmoving ears, the camera eyes closed under their protective lids. Then I turned back to Packmaster, standing at attention. "What are your orders?"  
  
She set me at ease. "No orders, you'll be back in your armor tomorrow, just try to relax today. I know it's hard to readjust and it'll be over soon."  
  
I nodded. "Okay. I can do that. Um. Yes mam." I said, remembering humie protocol from a long ago bootcamp, standing stiffly.  
  
Packmaster... what was her name? Sighed, putting her fingers under my chin, lifting it slightly, I whined. "Fenris." She said, deliberately using my Warhound name. "If it makes you more comfortable, act like a Warhound around me. I actually prefer it."  
  
I whined for a moment longer, instincts warring, before I gave up trying to figure out which was correct and just went with what felt natural, licking her hand again. "Yes... Packmaster."  
  
After that I went blinking out into the sun, not sure what to do with myself. Packmaster suggested I go to the little Rec building and just kill time, so I decided on that eventually. On my way I passed by our den. It didn't seem as inviting as it usually did, and after a little confusion I realized why. The smell was gone, my sense of smell much more dull now, I couldn't smell my packmates inside, or the claims we'd marked when we pissed on the walls.  
  
I turned away, heading towards the Rec building, a one floor hut with cinderblock walls containing whatever bought or donated entertainment the base had been able to scrape together. Ping pong tables, an old TV hooked up to a DVD player, some bookshelves in the corner.  
  
I went over and looked at the books for a while, grabbing one half at random. I liked to read, I remember, I hadn't read a book since I had put the armor on. I guess I forgot about that interest, not like the metal claws were good for holding a book even when they were in hand-mode rather than paws.  
  
I sat down and started reading, some mystery story set a hundred years ago at least. It wasn't really my thing but it felt good to read again, and I started to lose track of time. Some other people off duty came in and did things from time to time, playing ping pong or putting something on the TV, but I guess I had a strong enough 'I want to be alone' field up that they didn't come bother me.  
  
Eventually though I started to get hungry, putting the book down. I blinked, we had a box of preserved food in the den, we just ate whenever we got hungry. I didn't want to go in there, not like this. I... mess hall, right, I had to go to the mess hall.  
  
Leaving the book on the couch I got up and walked out, heading to the mess. Nobody was in there right now except the cooks, so I walked up to the counter. There wasn't any food there, just empty bins. I could smell food cooking though.  
  
"You're early." A man in an apron said as he carried a basket of ingredients around.  
  
"I'm hungry." I said simply.  
  
"Lunch is in an hour." He said, sounding tired.  
  
"But... I'm hungry. Now." I protested.  
  
The cook gave me a frustrated look. "Lunch is in an hour, come back then. I don't give out anything early."  
  
I whined, crossing my arms. Didn't he understand how much of a torment it was to smell food and just not be able to have any?  
  
He frowned, seeing my body language. "What are you, five? Throwing a tantrum, look what is your prob..." He trailed off as he saw the unit patch on my shoulder. A grey wolf's head illuminted on one side, the shadowed side replaced by an angular head of steel and rivets. The words "Cry Havoc" written underneath. "You're... a wardog." He said, blinking like he wasn't sure I was supposed to be there.  
  
"Yes." I said flatly. "Sorry... been in the armor for the last eight months. Forgot how I was supposed to act. Look, I'm hungry, can I please have something to eat? I'm not used to waiting."  
  
"Uh... sure yeah. Just don't let anyone else see you eat it or they'll wonder why they aren't getting stuff early." He came back a minute later with some sausages on a plate. "I'll have more ready in an hour, just hold you over okay?"  
  
I thanked him, taking the plate and almost burying my face in it before I saw the fork he was holding out. I sighed, taking it and eating the sausages right where I stood. They were cheap and greasy but also warm and at least partially composed of actual meat, so I didn't mind too much.  
  
I finished the food and returned the plate soon enough, going to sit at one of the tables and wait for the actual meal to be served, though I quickly got bored and started pacing around, looking out the various windows and generally being restless. Eventually people started to trickle in and the food was served, me getting in at the front of the line and then taking my tray to the far corner, sitting alone as I ate and watched the mess fill up. Humie watching was something of a passtime among th pack, and even in this form I still felt like I was an outsider here. I munched on my food at a slower pace and watched the base personnel come in and interact with each other.  
  
Eventually, something else came through the door as well and my eyes went down to my tray again. Buck had been coming in here a lot since we'd been allowed to wander, and here he was again. He said he did it to get people used to seeing us around, so they wouldn't be so on edge around us, though we also knew some of the soldiers fed him while he was here.  
  
He went from table to table, seemingly at random but I could read his body language, he was judging people's reactions to him and trying to put on a good show, playing friendly with those who seemed receptive and not getting too close to those who were on edge, letting himself be seen in as nonthreatening away as possible. I couldn't hear what the humies were talking about but I could see some good reactions, and a lot of nervous or indifferent ones. It was hard to know there was a man in the suit who was walking around and acting like a dog.  
  
Not that Buck was doing anything to remind them of that now, going up begging at tables with nothing but body language and canine whines, never once using human speech, seeming to have become at least accepted here. Pleased with his behavior I went back to my food, thinking about my own behavior and what I wanted to do when I got back in my armor.  
  
I jumped when there was a quiet 'woof' next to me, Buck having come over to see who was keeping himself in the corner. I sat up stiffly in my chair, looking down at him. His face was familiar of course, I saw it every day, but it didn't feel quite as alive or appealing as it usually did. Was it the lack of smell perhaps? Unable to judge his mood by scent, it could seem off. Or was that another aspect of the mental conditioning the suits put us through, making each other more physically appealing so we'd be more comfortable and identify with each other better?  
  
Buck sniffed at me, and cocked his head, making a curious whine. "Hey... Hey Buck." I said, fidgeting uncomfortably. "It's me..."  
  
Buck looked confused, giving a long whine. I realized he was trying to talk to me. "Hey... I can't understand you, english please."  
  
"Sorry... forgot." He mumbled in english, fidgeting, looking back up at me. "What happened man? Are you... you're still with us right?"  
  
I nodded. "Packmaster didn't say? They're just working on my armor, I'll be one of you again tomorrow she said."  
  
Buck nodded, looking over me again. When we were all in armor, it was fine. When we were all out of armor, it was fine. But like this, it felt wrong, clashing instincts, a feeling of disconnection with those closest to me.  
  
"The others were wondering where you were."  
  
"Can you tell them I'll be okay?" I asked, finishing my food.  
  
Buck pressed a little closer. "You should tell them yourself."  
  
I looked away. "I don't want them to see me like this. I'll come back tomorrow when I'm pack again."  
  
Buck snorted, leaning up to nuzzle my chest, making me gasp. "You -are- pack, Fenris. Even if you're squishy and smell different. Come back with me. Please." He said, leaning up to give my neck a lick.  
  
I smiled, letting out a shaky breath and reached up to pet his head, which he lay in my lap, sitting next to me. "Alright... alright Buck, if you think it's best."  
  
"Doctors orders." He said, tilting his head a little and letting out a modulated groan. "Ooh... in a bit though... that feels really nice..."  
  
We stayed there quietly for a while longer, me just petting his head as he lay there for me, getting more comfortable together until everyone started filing out of the mess. Buck looked up to me, crooning and I nodded. "Alright, let's go."  
  
He yipped, getting up and nudging me along, making sure I didn't stray as he led me towards the barracks, the others presumably waiting. I paused for a moment at the door, the building seeming so less inviting when I was unable to smell the familiar comforting scents, as Buck opened the door and went in.  
  
Was it always this dark? I almost reached for a light switch but resisted, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. My eyes took a moment to adjust, dark shapes moving in the shadows as they got up, slinking out of corners and through the illuminated patches coming from the windows.  
  
Yips, growls and electronic warbles greeted me as five pairs of shining eyes looked up at me, I felt like a deer in their sights, waiting for them to pounce. Buck gave me an encouraging nod, and I shook the instincts off, no wonder the others felt so nervous so often around us.  
  
"Hey..." I said quietly, walking in a little, pausing to think about how best to handle this. I reached to my fatigues, pulling the shirt off before kicking off my boots, stripping naked and leaving the clothes in a pile by the door. I got down on all fours and crawled to the middle of the room, the others making way, before I rolled over onto my back, holding my hands up by my chest. It was a canine position of submission, surrender.  
  
The pack stepped closer, sniffing over my human body, noses bumping my skin, before they began to nuzzle and lick me all over without hesitation or shame. Buck nuzzled my neck. "Told you. You are pack. Always. Silly wolf." He said, giving my cheek a big lick as I lay there smiling.  
  
I lay there for some time as the pack licked, nuzzled and pressed against me, offering quiet words of acceptance and encouragement. It took some time to get used to, but in the end they seemed fine with this form and soon we were mostly back to our old antics. Though they were careful not to jump on me or roughouse, knowing they'd probably break a few bones if they trued to wrestle like before, though Bandit did appreciate me throwing an old hubcap he's found as a frisbee.  
  
When we were hungry, we dug food out of the storage bin in the corner, I grabbed some smoked meat and energy bars for myself, taking my share to my corner like normal before joining back up with the others, Duke and Titan getting into a little tussle over something, which ended when Titan used his greater size to pin Duke to the ground and sit on him, the rest of us having a good laugh at the wriggling Duke's displeasure.  
  
The door opened, everyone coming forward as Packmaster came back. "Ah, there you are Fenris." She said, looking bemused as I crawled over, a little slower than the others, but she let me lick her hand and petted my head like she used to, even though she ruffled her fingers through hair rather than petting floppy ears. "You're a little smaller than usual... but you seem about the same." She said, seeming rather amused at the way I was acting.  
  
"I was wondering how you might handle it, trying to ignore the change?" She asked, sounding genuinely curious.  
  
I thought about it for a minute. "Well... 's only for one day. Didn't want to change everything up... missed being with the pack." She nodded, patting my head. "Next time you're out of armor, you should be all together going on leave, I'll try to arrange something. You getting along okay?"  
  
Duke bumped his hip against mine, and I chuckled, almost able to feel a phantom tail wagging. "Getting along good, yes."  
  
She nodded. "Alright, just wanted to check on my boys. Get some sleep and I'll have you back to your old self in the morning.  
  
I looked up, smiling up at her from where I crouched. "Thank you, Packmaster." I said in as heartfelt a way as I could, and she ruffled my hair again before letting me lick her hand.  
  
"You're welcome, good boy." She said, before heading out.  
  
I was a little giddy after that, playing catch with the others for a bit before we wound down to sleep. I tried sleeping on my usual mattress, but couldn't get it to work right. I tossed and turned for an hour, unable to get quite situated, getting up and turning a circle before laying down, only to have joints tweaked at odd angles and unfamiliar bones poking and crushed.  
  
I heard a low croon from across the room, Titan looking at me with his calm, steady gaze. He shifted his position, showing his belly, and I took the hint, crawling over to lay against him as he wrapped his big body around me. Wardogs have a lot of hard plates on them, sure, but the synthetic flesh between, and on the belly, is pretty soft, and quite warm. I lay my head against him, hearing the click and whirr of his mechanical body, and soon drifted off to sleep.  
  
I woke to Titan's broad tongue licking over my face, getting up and stretching before crouching down with the others to get breakfast, munching on whatever looked appealing. Soon Packmaster came back and after our usual greeting, she ordered me to get my fatigues on, going over to where I'd dropped them last night.  
  
"Fine as you are, I don't think the others would approve you walking around buck naked. At least when you walk on two legs."  
  
I nodded wordlessly, going to dress, following her out as she led me, holding onto my sleeve like a leash and taking me back to the tech bay, my body waiting. As soon as she released me I pulled the fatigues off and kicked the boots away, leaving them where they fell. The techie from before was there, raising a surprised brow.  
  
"He's eager to be himself again." Packmaster said.  
  
He nodded. "Ah, right. I've worked with Wardogs before." He must understand at least some of the conditioning then, good. "Right here, it's ready for you."  
  
I nodded, quickly walking over, the entry hatch awaiting me. Packmaster watched as Caleb helped me climb into the mechanical shell, sighing in relief as I lay down in the familiar cushioning gel layer.  
  
"Okay." He said, fixing on the facemask, drowning me in a familiar darkness. "Bringing basic systems online... now."  
  
With a hum, the Wardog's onboard powerplant kicked from onto idle, the gel layer tensing before relaxing as it felt the charge go through it, conforming to my body as I settled into it, laying in the familiar grooves.  
  
"Closing hatch." The geek said, and with a hiss the shell closed around me, gel pressing against my back, before my ears popped with the seal was made. The gel comformed perfectly to every inch of my human body, mask providing air. I couldn't move, couldn't see, couldn't hear, complete sensory depravation.  
  
I felt a faint panic rising in me, simple instinctual response to being trapped alone, it was like I was buried alive in here! What if something went wrong? What if that damn tech's upgrades fucked up my suits internals, was the air purifier working? What if I had to get out of...  
  
A graphic popped up in front of my eyes as the computer came online. [Main computer online. Neural jack interface complete. Connection stable. All systems nominal.]  
  
I was fine. Silly of me to worry really, the suit was familiar, safe. It would serve me again, and I would be like I used to be, I'd be happy again, comfortable in my familiar body.  
  
The world around me faded in as my eyes came back online, AR overlays popping up one by one, and I took a deep breath. The tech geek was working on unhooking me from the support frame, and closing a few hatches on my body, but I didn't care. Packmaster stood in front of me, looking down with a smile.  
  
I whined happily, shaking my head and looking up at her, panting barking happily when she started petting me again. "Welcome back, my good boy." She said, scratching behind my ear in that glorious place that made me melt inside.  
  
It was good to be myself again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack joins in a major battle and has an unexpected encounter.

I was playing tug-o-war against Bandit with a piece of rebar when she walked in, making me release my end of the twisted metal fast enough to make the overgrown pup recoil backwards into the wall with a thump. We came forward slowly, completing the usual ritual of licking and petting, before she got on with things.  
  
"Sorry for the short notice boys, but you're being deployed, imminently."  
  
That got our attention, if it was possible Packmaster didn't have it all already.  
  
"Allied forces are staging an assault on a nearby city, marines are providing support. However the tide of battle has turned a little sour and the enemy has brought in rienforcements, it's a bloody stalemate right now. The base is mobilizing and you're going to be going along with them, get to the tech bay on the double, heavy combat load. Go!" She snapped, and we barreled out through the door like six cannonballs.  
  
The base was like someone had kicked an anthill, a flurry of commotion everywhere, the noise of engines as armored soldiers formed up and loaded into armored vehicles. We'd be the tip of the spear and likely arrive first via chopper.  
  
The tech bay was much more busy than when I'd gotten my upgrades, our full support staff was there, going over the weapon loadouts we'd be fitted with, the whole pack getting into the painted rectangles on the ground with their numbers. I was number 4, randomly chosen. When we were in position, the techs started working on the weapons loadouts of each of us, using the block and tackle over each space to hoist up the equipment when needed.  
  
The ability to rapidly shift between bipedal and quadruped movement was helpful in many situations, especially when speed and flexibility was needed, such as fast, brief encounters against light resistance. However the Wardog armor's quadruped frame and great strength allowed it to carry a significant amount of heavy armament, though it often sacrificed the ability to effectively stand up. Still, a slight loss in speed and flexibility was little price to pay for the speed, accuracy and firepower they could bring.  
  
I looked up to the techies working on me, bringing down the familiar weight of an FN MAG over my right shoulder. The weapon mounting was fairly simple, any weapon with a trigger could be mounted there easily enough, but the addition of the targeting addons our weapons had made them considerably more efficient.  
  
As a large ammo can was mounted on my lower back, I looked up to Titan next to me, who was being fitted with even heavier ordinance, an M2 Browning on his right side, feeding from a huge can over his back legs. His left side carried an 8-pack smart missile launcher and, almost conically, a tiny looking SMG fed from a helical mag for last ditch close quarters.  
  
Duke, on my other side, was taking an FN Minimi and a combat shotgun. My own loadout was complete with an automatic grenade launcher. After the weapons and ammo came TROPHY modules and extra sensors, burying our sleek canine bodies under a layer of heavy ordinance and equipment. Weapon drivers booted up, overlaying targeting optics on my AR vision, one of the techs holding up a light stick.  
  
"Track." He ordered, and I looked at the light, the weapons on my back following my gaze. "Good, good." He said, moving the light around, my weapons following. "Multi." He held out another light. I quickly set the launcher to auto-follow that target and focused on the other, my weapons splitting to target independently. "Okay, checks green. You're all good, Packmaster is on the chopper."  
  
Burdened with our heavy weapons and gear, the ground thudded and felt to tremble as we rushed out, Buck taking point and clearing a path with his loud barking as we beat feet across the compound and into the waiting Chinook, Packmaster waiting. She thumped the door and the pilot took off as the ramp closed. Time for war.  
  
We lay around Packmaster's feet for the briefing, her going over the details on a padm linking into our onboard systems to relay the data to our AR displays, pulling up a tactical map of the city in question with friendly units and known enemy positions.  
  
The marine units were shown with clear blue symbols, each of them carrying various tracking beacons and datalinks that allows for total tactical awareness. Local friendly units were much more vague, with only green markers for radio operators and general squad locations, lacking our advanced datalink systems and other various integrated warfare toys.  
  
"Sorry for the short notice deployment boys but this situation has developed rapidly. Our local allies have lost a nearby battle and their failure has allowed enemy fighters to pour into the city, rienforcing hostile units and outflanking the marines and allied forces. We're going in to counter the counterattack, and you're on point. Get in and cause havoc, eliminate high value targets and soften them up for the main force rolling in. I've also just been informed that the marines have one of their own Wardog packs deployed as well."  
  
That got our interest. Wardog technology was a somewhat touchy issue with the various branches. Everyone wanted their own, and everyone wanted control of them. From AirForce pararescue to Marine raiders to Navy Seals, everyone wanted their own. Wardogs were originally our own branch of the military, small in numbers, high in funding, developing this new technology and working in tandem with the other branches. We were one such unit, officially part of our own indipendent branch but seconded long term to the Army.  
  
However as the tech became more accepted and cheaper to produce, the various branches each started buying their own suits and conducting their own training, making their own Wardog units which they completely controlled. It was an understandable desire, even though we were currently under Army command, the higher ups of the Wardog branch could yank us at any moment, and nobody wanted to lose an asset like that. Still, it felt wrong in some way, like we weren't going to help our fellows, but rivals, newcomers who thought they could do it better.  
  
I'd never met a Marine Corps Wardog before. What would they be like? Would they look like us, act like us? Was their conditioning and training like ours, or were they just humies in suits? Packmaster brought my attention back to her as she continued her briefing.  
  
"Thus far it's a stalemate, but the enemy is bringing in rienforcements and supplies while the marine logistics are cut off. They're tired, unable to ressuply and cannot evacuate their wounded, we need to break this before it becomes a fully fledged siege. Do what you do best, I'll be monitoring the situation and relaying orders as needed via satlink."  
  
We all confirmed our datalinks were working properly once again, before the chopper started to change orienttion, the pilot buzzing over internal com. "The marines are seeing shoulder launched AA units in the city, this is as close as I get."  
  
Packmaster nodded as the ramp lowered. "Close enough. Sic 'em boys!"  
  
We barked and howled, thundering down the ramp and out onto the ground, half a dozen walking tanks, sensors, weapons and defense systems spooling up.  
  
We could hear the gunfire from here, the city laid out before us. Buildings of weathered stone, old brick and cinderblocks, so choked with sand and dust that it was almost the same color as the inhospitable scrubland it rose out of. It wasn't really any place special, just another poor city the site of the latest tragedy in what seemed war without end, only noteworthy for its size and strategically useful location.  
  
Tac maps of the city streets flashed through our minds as we moved up, AR overlays identifying viable approach options and possible lanes of return fire. The armor's computers communicated through the neural jack at the speed of thought, in full combat mode it was hard to distinguish where the thoughts of the pilot ended, and the tactical computers began.  
  
We formed a running front, each abreast of the other, maximizing the coverage of our TROPHY systems, remembering the warnings about RPGs in the city. Sharp cracks sounded to our sides and above us as we closed.  
  
<They see us, taking fire.> Duke reported, the buildings growing closer with each long, powerful stride. <Watch for incoming- RPG!> He yelped.  
  
The fat warhead raced through the air, radar tracking it and the computer projecting its course. With a crash-bang, Buck's TROPHY intercepted it with a buckshot-like blast, detonating the rocket into harmless shrapnel. More were fired, our smart systems ignoring the ones that would spiral harmlessly into the distance or impact into the ground, the ones that got too close being intercepted.  
  
<We need to silence those rocket teams, the Army group is coming right up the road behind us.> Duke growled, myself watching the range indicator scrolling down on my HUD. Titan opened up with his big .50 cal, stabalized firing platform sending rounds downrange to chew bits of masonry out of the buildings ahead of us, sending distant figures ducking for cover, before he chewed through that as well. When I was in range I opened up with my own machinegun, ammo ticker scrawling down as I fired suppressing bursts.  
  
Then we were at the buildings, and I leaped through a window, glass shattering and quickly assessing the situation. Sensors of all descriptions, from SONAR to LIDAR mapped the room around me and I quickly found the stairs, dashing up towards the position on the roof. A rifle barrel poked through the doorway, confuses shouting from the roof position, someone coming to try to stop me. I would have laughed if my mouth wasn't busy, biting the rifle and tugging it away.  
  
The fighter shouted something profane as I spat the rifle aside and leaped, paws hitting his chest and knocking him backwards. My full weight landed on him, driving his shattered ribs through his body, crushing him beneath my paws as I hosed down the RPG team with machinegun fire.  
  
<Roof clear!> I howled to the pack.  
  
The others reported similar successes, Titan ripping a rocketeer apart on the next roof over as I jumped down to the ground with a heavy thud. Gunfire up the street, I barked for the pack's attention, tactical computer feeding me data. <Marine fireteam in a firefight with hostile fighters.>  
  
<You take them out, I'll help the wounded.> Buck barked, the others agreeing and rushing to follow up with us. No howling now, it was time to be serious. This was my idea, so I keyed my radio into the Marine unit's frequencey.  
  
[Fireteam Charlie be advised, you have a pack of Wardogs coming in to your south, watch your fire.]  
  
[Wardogs?] Came the surprised reply. [Solid copy, enemy has snipers in the tall building to the east of our position.]  
  
Bandit yipped. <Counter sniper, right!> He readied his long rifle and checked his vantage points, heading out to take some of the pressure off.  
  
We soon reached the Marine's positions, Buck diving through a window to be in amongst them, his Minimi laying down a steady barrage. Titan took position near the Marine's building, M2 thumping out a steady pace of shells as he layed down his usual cover-eating suppressive fire.  
  
I quickly assessed the situation, noting muzzle flashes and building geometry. Jackal launched a quad rotor UAV to hover overhead, marking targets with a dispassionate eye. Duke came to my side, also armed with an FN MAG and a rack of smart grenades, as well as a two-shot missile pack on each rear hip.  
  
<Come on, sweep and clear.> He growled, to which I nodded and moved alongside him. I grimaced as a rifle round glanced off my armor, weaving through abandoned cars for cover as the enemy tried to zero in on me, metal pinging in all directions.  
  
<Give me a door here Fenris!> Duke yelped, and I put 3 40mm grenades into the wall, blasting a hole which Duke jumped at, ripping open enough to climb inside. I jumped in with him, teeth barred and growling.  
  
I followed my nose through the building, the bulk of my body taking up almost the entire hall. We both went upstairs, stopping off at different floors as we prowled for prey. I emerged behind a fighter with a scoped rifle, who just had time to turn his head before I was on him. My teeth entered his throat and I ripped it out, hot blood on my tongue, the euphoric rush of the kill pulsing through me. More, I wanted more.  
  
Footsteps in the hallway, sensitive ears tracking their movement, estimating a position. I fired a long sweeping burst through the wall before emerging into the corridor, finishing them off with flashes of fangs and claws. Screams downstairs let me know that Duke was having similar success. I bushwacked a machinegun team that was trying to relocate, gunning one down before tearing the leg off the other and snapping his neck in my jaws.  
  
Blood tasted good, don't get me wrong, but the rush of combat, the little endorphin surge of each kill. The building was going quiet around me, so this fight was ending, and the others would expect me back. But how could I resist, right? I lowered my head, taking a big chunk out of the leg I'd removed, gnashing it up before swallowing. It would be efficiently rendered down into nutrients to be fed intraveneously to my organic parts, topping off my gas tank, if you will. Who knows how long this fight might last, smart to eat when you can. I smelled no more living prey in this building, so I left, trotting out to rejoin my pack.  
  
Pleased with my performance, I let out a low, molten growl as I walked over, licking my chops, muzzle stained with blood as I got close, entering the Marine position. <How we doing?>  
  
Buck was looking over the situation, giving a satisfied snort. <Pretty good here, they'll be fine. You look like you had fun.>  
  
I grinned, snickering.  
  
"Holy shit, did you actually bite someone?"  
  
I turned, seeing a somewhat surprised looking Marine who'd just noticed the blood. I nodded. "Armed to the teeth." I chirped.  
  
"Fuckin' A." He said, sounding morbidly impressed.  
  
"Don't you have your own Wardog pack in the city?" I asked, he didn't seem used to this by now.  
  
"Yeah, new addition, not usualy with us, seem to get the job done though."  
  
Titan let out a low growl from outside. <Enemy armor sighted by Marine forces, they are requesting support. Rotor wings won't be able to get close with the dug in AA units.>  
  
<That's our job then!> Bandit yipped, jumping down from the roof with a heavy thud and a blast of dust.  
  
"Gotta go." I said back to the Marine, jumping through the window. "Your pack needs mine." I ignored his response, moving down the street with the pack, scanning for threats as we went.  
  
<You've got a bit of insurgent in your teeth.> Buck pointed out as we left.  
  
<Oh, thanks.>  
  
Packmaster fed us the data she was getting from high up UAVs, trusting our decision to engage the armor. It looked like a mechanized infantry unit supported by tanks, old ones too. Still, best not to let them get close.  
  
We cut through the Marine's control zone, movins fast through the secured area of the city towards the sounds of gunfire, soon moving up into our side's fighting positions. Some buildings were heavily damaged, reduced to rubble by the prolonged combat, the distant crawling shapes of tanks kicking up dust.  
  
<Looks like local intelligence dropped the ball.> Titan growled. <They assured us no tanks in the area.>  
  
<Good thing we always assume local intelligence is wrong.> I said, looking at the others. I felt a bit useless, watching for closer infantry as the others did their thing. Jackal launched his UAV again to give targeting data, Bandit scanned for targets, Titan and Duke had missile launchers. I felt a bit left out.  
  
Buck bumped me. <Come on, let's go watch the perimeter, maybe we'll get lucky?>  
  
I barked, getting ready to head down as Titan launched his first of eight missiles. It thumped as it was punted up out of the launcher, before the engine ignited and sent it screaming off downrange towards an enemy vehicle, before it slammed down through the top armor, blowing the turret out the top like a cork from a wine bottle.  
  
As more missiles were fired off above us, Buck and I roamed the streets, sniffing for fresh prey. Even with the power and accuracy of our missiles, Titan and Duke only had twelve shots between them, enough to blunt the armored push, but they couldn't stop it.Footsteps, scent of sweaty human bodies on the shifting wind, we looked at each other and nodded, switching to track the new contacts. Our opponents were poorly equipped, primitive technology and old weapons. In some ways it gave them advantages, no radios to listen in on, and their old gear was reliable, manufactured decades ago and still bearing the marks proudly declaring their production in the glorious Soviet Union. They were no less deadly for having outlived their creators.  
  
But the disorganization was showing, little cohesion between groups, leaving each squad and platoon a mostly isolated fighting unit, given an overall plan of action when the battle began and set loose. Well, no plan survived first contact with the enemy. Here was one such unit, probably given the vague order of 'move towards the Marines and shoot' and that was all they had going for them. Poor bastards.  
  
Three were dead before they knew we were behind them, flanking from each side of the street. I held back a bit, side-strafing as I laid in with my heavier machinegun, Buck moving closer in, Minimi and combat shotgun tracking targets individually. Rifle rounds spat out and pinged off walls and the ground, one clipping my armor again. Speed and shock were our greatest weapons, no matter how we were armed, though our guns were well stabilized and supremely accurate. The new targeting upgrades were working great, letting me suppress one group while I dropped 40mm onto another, tearing them to shreds before switching targets.  
  
It was a frenzied bloodbath, tearing targets apart with gunfire, explosives and gleaming fangs, in a minute at most there was nothing left alive in the street. Still hot with the energy of the fight, Buck and I sunk our fangs into one of the kills, tearing it apart between us.More footsteps, we looked to the source of the noise, growling and prowling low, stopping when we saw a Marine coming around the corner. "Hey! We have a situation that… oh god." He said, looking at the ripped apart body, blood covering our faces, Buck still swallowing some of his meat. The marine retched, managing to not vomit but looking quite under the weather. I let out a whine, cocking my head. I wasn't going to hurt him, why was he scared? I whined louder, dropping my eares sadly. I wasn't supposed to make our people feel bad,  I was supposed to make them feel good! I was here to help them, right? He looked at me, seeming to recover himself a little and I happily yapped, panting a little in what I hoped would be an endearing way.  
  
"There ah… there's something we need your help with." He said, not looking directly at me. "Our own Wardogs are in a bad spot, they're being boxed in and are taking heavy fire. I think they're too stubborn to call for help but they're getting surrounded at the end of our lines. They might end up completely encircled."  
  
That was bad. Wardogs were shock units, we did best moving fast in close. The half second of stunned terror when we were seen in close quarters was our greatest advantage. If we let ourselves get pinned down, lost our mobility advantage and let our weapons be expended, then we could be killed, ground down until we were unable to fight.  
  
"Thank you." I said, though that seemed to unnerve him again. "We'll save your hounds."  
  
I howled for the others. <The marine Wardogs are in trouble, we need to go help them.>  
  
Titan howled back. <We've done all we can here anyway, let's go.>  
  
The others joined up with us soon and we went on our way, Bandit looking at the still a little shocked marine as we passed. <What's his problem?>  
  
<I don't think he liked seeing us eat.> I shrugged.  
  
<To be fair.> Duke pointed out. <Your table manners would make anyone vomit.>  
  
We all had a good chuckle at that as we went off to help our marine cousins.  
  
As we closed on the other pack's location, Packmaster filled us in on their situation. Enemy forces had surrounded them and one of their Wardogs had been injured. Unwilling to leave their packmate, they had bunkered down and were now pinned down, becoming more isolated as the lines of battle shifted. We figured that between two packs of Wardogs we should be able to deal with most anything… if these Wardogs were our equals at any rate. I'd never encountered another branche's own hounds before, would they measure up to us or be pale, budget trimmed imitations?  
  
We moved through the marine lines and when we got close enough, began hailing them with howling cries. It took a few tries before we got a howl back, a quick, hurried call, but we were able to establish contact.  
  
<Friendly Wardog pack moving up from your south, we are here to help.> Buck called.  
  
<When did you get here!> Came the quick, harsh demand.  
  
<Recently. A full relief force is riding hard behind us, we're the speartip.>  
  
There was a pause before the answer. <Okay, get your asses over here!>  
  
And so we did, pounding the pavement until we saw the other Wardog's fighting position. A lone, half demolished building, sitting in a square, taking fire from all sides. The rubble strewn landscape around the building was choked with bodies and burned out vehicles, the Wardogs had taken a bloody toll on their attackers. But while the enemy didn't seem keen on actually advancing, they seemed content in their ability to sit in relative safety and pour bullets and rockets into the abused building until they reduced it to rubble.  
  
Duke growled, assessing the situation, the pack pausing for a moment on the edge of the battle zone, Jackal launching his UAV again. <Jackal, Titan, with me, we're going to sweep around and start clearing these buildings. Fenris, Bandit, Buck, go help our cousins hold out.>  
  
We barked our agreement, the pack splitting. There was no defense now but speed and surprise as the three of us made a bee-line for the nearest opening on the bullet scarred building. It took a few moments for the enemy to see us, then they started shifting their fire towards our advancing dust cloud. Bandit popped smoke, thick brown clouds obscuring our approach, rounds and rockets slamming unaimed into the ground around us before we blew out of the cloud and soon into the building, barking for the marines.  
  
Up above us, they barked back and even without it, we could have followed the sound of the gunfire, heading up towards them, yapping to make sure no twitchy weapons fired at us as we came in. Then we got our first good look at our Marine counterparts.  
  
The first thing we noticed was the colors. We were mostly colored in varying shades of grey, with some browns and tans thrown in. These Wardogs were all colored in the digital camoflage which was used in marine uniforms. Our color patterns often mimiced real canine patterns, while here the blocks of camoflage colors were sometimes arranged to form obvious symbols or words, like tattoos almost. Their armor was more angular while ours was sleek and rounded, though their armaments were similar overall. Judging by the body count littering the ground around their holdout position, they seemed to be pretty good at what they did.  
  
<So nice of you to join us!> Barked a big male, leaning up to a window to let off a long burst with an LMG.  
  
<Sorry, traffic.> I said, moving over to take position at a large hole blown in the wall, peeking out to open fire and then ducking back in.  
  
One of the Wardogs had been dragged further into the building, having taken an RPG to the side, Buck going to see to him. Bandit went upstairs to start sniping, prioritizing RPG users being fed to him by Jackal's UAV, leaving me alone down with the marines.  
  
<Just warning you!> Said the one by the window. <If you so much as make one pun about 'devil dogs' I will fucking eat  you!>  
  
<The thought never crossed my mind!> I barked back, lying.  
  
I focused inward for a moment, standing behind cover, letting my AR system throw up an image of the surrounding area from the hovering quad rotor above us. The others of my pack were moving through buildings, but the enemy was on alert and dug in, it wasn't going quickly. They were advancing slowly, clearing buildings one floor, one room at a time, as the battle moved all around them, above and below. It was slow, bloody work.  
  
I was pulled out of my focus as I felt something behind me, letting out a surprised little yip and looking over. The Wardog I'd just spoken to had his nose under my tail, sniffing. Well, there goes the worries that they weren't like us under their different colors and armor. <Slow moment, thought I'd say hi.> The other hound said, and I nodded, waiting for him to stop before returning the favor. You can tell a lot about a Wardog by scent, and… there was something that felt right about it that I could never put my paw on.  
  
<Having a nice little get together Rex?> Asked another Marine dog, trotting past us, making me pull up.  
  
<Just being polite is all.> The canine snarked back, going to take his position again. I walked over, curious about the sleeker newcomer, putting my nose down to sniff.  
  
Female, obviously, can't exactly miss that when you're looking right at her hindquarters, smell or not. I found my eyes drawn away from that feature to the Marine Corps emblem, made out of digital camo blocks on her right ass cheek like a brand. She looked over her shoulder, pushing me away with a rear paw. <One, we're in a combat zone. Two, my ass is off limits.> 'Rex' whined needily behind me before going back to shooting, switching positions to avoid being pinned down.  
  
I growled lightly, the push was just rude. But I took up positions across from her, popping out grenades and machinegun fire. It was chaotic, hellish fighting. Walls and cover were being blown out by rockets, ducking down as a long burst stiched craters across the walls. Any doubts I had about my counterparts abilities were banished as, despite their hit or miss acceptance of standard canine conduct, they showed the competence and bravery I'd expect from any Wardog.  
  
I barked out targets and answered their calls as well, heavy footfalls above or below showing the others moving. Bandit was doing a good job picking off targets, and Buck thought their injured dog would pull through, though it was touch and go right now.  
  
We dodged and moved, falling back from one room to another, keeping out of their lines of fire and shooting back as well as we could. There was little we could do though beyond keeping them suppressed, after my grenades ran out at least. Before then I got to blow up a couple positions so that was good. The rest of the pack was clearing houses and making progress, we just had to hold out.  
  
The female Wardog whose name I did not know and ass I was not allowed to touch was near me, letting off long bursts from her MG, the AA missiles on her back not very useful right now. <You're not what I was expecting.> She barked in a brief moment of pause.  
  
<What were you expecting?> I whined back.  
  
<Thought you dogs from the original branch were all just test cases, testing out shiny toys and not getting your paws dirty. The blood on your face kinda shows otherwise.>  
  
I grinned, licking my lips. <Wasn't sure what to expect with you either, thought you might be Wardogs in name only, just random marines stuck in cut rate suits. The ass sniffing shows otherwise, you get it.>  
  
She chuckled, peeking out a long broken window. <Yeah, our training must be different somehow, but we were taught to be dogs just like you I guess. didn't mean to be rude before, just learned I had to keep the other boys from sniffing my ass because they kept getting too friendly. Let someone stick his snout under your tail and he starts thinking you have a special relationship.>  
  
I laughed, about to agree when my RADAR pinged incoming. <RPG!> I barked, dancing back in just enough time to see my TROPHY intercept it, blowing up right outside the window. The female was down under the window, safe from the shrapnel, but the blast took the last bit of fight out of the old masonry, which started to crumble.  
  
<Shit!> She whined, trying to escape, but she wasn't fast enough, and my paws couldn't reach her before the floor gave way, taking her down with it, landing in a pile of rubble.  
  
<Dog down, north side!> I barked, looking down at her while my auto targeter laid on a long burst. She had been briefly stunned by the fall, getting up and covered in rubble. One rear leg was stuck under a large chunk of concrete. <She's pinned! I'm going down!> I barked over the others protests, jumping down to land beside her, teeth barred.  
  
I opened fire with the machinegun, 7.62 NATO rounds screaming downrange in one long burst. The barrel could melt for all I cared but I needed all the suppressive fire I could get. The others opened fire above me, a great torrent of gunfire tearing into the enemy position. <Can you get up!> I barked, sparing her a glance.  
  
She had shaken herself, the worst of the impact had been soaked up by her impact gel, but her leg looked in a bad way. <One of the joints is fucked up.> She whimpered, trying to push on the rock with her other back leg, her canine body not letting her put much leverage on it with her front paws.  
  
<Shit, hold on I'll get you out.> I barked, setting my gun to automatically fire back at enemy muzzle flashes. I put my front paws on the stone, digging my rear paws in and pushing, synthetic muscle straining. We both whined and pushed, putting as much of our strength as we could combine in it, black synth flesh flexing and contorting as the rubble shifted. A rifle round thumped into my side, but I didn't waver, TROPHY system sounding a warning as it started to deplete its ammunition, when finally the rubble shifted enough that she could pull her mangled leg out before it fell back down.  
  
<Let's go!> I barked, covering us both as we rushed back inside, her limping on the damaged limb. We both panted when we got inside, and I took a moment to inspect her leg. The joint within the muscle had been dislocated and possibly broken, slowing her mobility greatly, but it wouldn't be much trouble to fix in the shop. Her organics were fine, I didn't smell any blood.  
  
<You took a hit.> She said, noting the wound in my side.  
  
<Didn't penetrate far, quick fix.> I said, diagnostics showing it to not be too dangerous. <My ammo's basically spent though.> Lots of red warning lights on my AR display, and my TROPHY was basically dry.  
  
<Check your battlenet.> She panted, checking the leg by putting some weight on it.> That army group you were leading is sweeping through the city, fight won't be going on much longer, it looks like a rout.>  
  
I checked the tactical situation, she was right. Reinforcements were sweeping the city and sandwiching the enemy between them, crushing enemy resistance between them. The gunfire around us quieted, the forces surrounding this building starting to retreat, choosing between getting shot by humies or gnawed on by Wardogs didn't seem like much of a choice to them.  
  
<Lexi.> She said, looking over to me. <Name's Lexi.>  
  
<Fenris.> I responded, opting for a polite nod rather than violate her space if she had issues about that.  
  
She limped up to the room where Buck was caring for her injured packmate, the big dog snoring softly under heavy medication. The wound was ugly, blowing a hole in his synth flesh and hitting the organics underneath, but Buck had treated it with his usual skill. The medic dog so to both our minor hurts, patching it up though it would fall to the dedicated specialists to fix things permanently.  
  
That done, we went through the building, keeping away from the windows to avoid catching a stray round. The rest of the pack loped back in, reporting the area was reasonably secure. We'd done a lot of damage and opened up the approach for our humie backup, but we were spent. Ammo depleted, TROPHY running low, taking light damage. Shock and awe instilled it was best to avoid getting chewed up by what combat was left, not that it looked like this fight would be lasting long now that we outnumbered the enemy and had them outflanked.  
  
I kept close to Lexi, some protective instinct wanting me to stay at her side as she kept walking, even on the injured leg, ascending to a higher level to look out over the city through a large hole in the wall, smoke rising and distant flashes and gunfire still showing the battles raging.  
  
<Got here just in time. Not often someone saves our bacon, usually the other way around.> She admitted.  
  
<You're not my pack, but we had to help, Wardogs look out for their own.> I shrugged.  
  
<Yeah, I guess we do.> She nodded, seeming finally tired of walking now that we'd gotten to the other end of the building. <So what's it like in your branch?>  
  
I considered it, before shrugging. <We just do what packmaster tells us, and get rewarded when we do well and make her happy. I don't worry about anything beyond that. What's it like where you come from?>  
  
She looked curious. <Packmaster? Guess that's just a different name. But it's basically the same, we get our own little barracks and do what Sir tells us to when it's time to go on a mission. Lots of busy work because every officer from a Lieutenant to General wants us helping them, and they want it now.>  
  
I nodded. <Know how that feels, though since we're an independent outfit we keep getting requests from all kinds of people, I'm glad Packmaster lets us rest and not throwing us into every single firefight in the whole war.>  
  
<Yeah, fun as combat is, sometimes I just need to lay down in a sunny patch and sleep. Besides we're too valuable to run ragged. Even if it is a good way to get fresh meat.> She said, looking at my bloodstains. She walked over, starting to lick drying blood off my armor.  
  
I let out a little breath, enjoying the companionship. <You don't owe me anything.> I warned softly, and she nodded, continuing.  
  
<No, I don't.> She said, continuing before she walked away, looking away from me out over the city.  
  
<So how long until you go… back…> I trailed off, sniffing as a new scent crossed by nose. I looked over to her, seeing her looking back over her shoulder at me, letting me get closer to sniff near her tail. I gave her a questioning look, and she nodded slowly. Needing no further encouragement, I swiftly mounted her as we looked out over the ruined city.  
  
+++ Sexual content begins +++  
  
My shaft was made of the same black synth flesh as the rest of my softer parts, with a fully canine design. The full reasoning behind equipping Wardog chassis with sex organs was long and involved much arguing and embarrassing committee meetings and wasn't on my mind at the moment. The nice thing about the synth flesh was that it obeyed commands as well as instincts, so there was no waiting for me to get hard and ready before the mating could begin.  
  
Her back weapons were quickly shed, me putting them aside carefully after she disengaged the catches, before I mounted over her fully, laying my weight on her back, though careful not to put weight on her injured leg. Her tail tucked to the side for me, which was welcome because sticking it in could be hard enough without hands back there to guide it.  
  
I thrust, eager tip glancing off the firm muscle of her rear, and I whimpered in frustration as I thrust repeatedly, before catching on something that gave way when I pushed. I waited for a moment, making sure I'd hit my target before thrusting forward into her. She let out a little yip but bit down on it, making me snicker as I pushed into her.  
  
It had been a long time since I'd mounted a bitch, it felt different than the males to be sure. Not better, not worse, different. Looser, but wetter and in a different shape that was certainly pleasant, inner muscles pulling at me in different, unfamiliar ways. I moaned loudly as I thrust again, my deflated knot touching her lips.  
  
<Keep it down.> She panted. <Don't let the others hear.>  
  
I nodded, biting my tongue as I thrust, working up a good pace. My muzzle touched the back of her head and I gave her a few fond licks, which she seemed to like, nuzzling her fondly as I humped. With time and privacy we could have gotten truly inventive, but in the current situation there was little for it but a simple mount and hump, the appropriate doggystyle.  
  
Try as we might to stay quiet, we both let out little pants and whines I hoped were too quiet to be noticed, humping away with no care for making this last or slowly building up to the finish. Short, passionate, and a hell of a lot of fun. Our breathing got heavier and heavier as we went, and she let out a stifled yelp as I hilted fully within her, before drawing out to the tip and thrusting again, feeling her nearing the ending.  
  
Finally I let out a choked, huffing bark and slammed in to the hilt, knot popping within her, inflating to tie us together as I started pumping thick, synthetic seed into her false womb, filling her with liquid warmth. The inflated knot hit her in all the right places, wringing a quiet orgasm out of her, black flesh trembling and squeezing all around me as I pumped her full to the brim.  
  
We both panted, me licking her ears again, before knowing I should take the weight off of her with her injured leg, climbing off of her and turning to press our rears together, knot rotating inside her. I looked back over towards her, Lexi turning and bending a little to look back at me.  
  
<I didn't do that because you saved me.> She said first.  
  
I nodded. <I hoped not, I would have done it anyway.>  
  
She nodded back. <It's just… I wanted something like this for a while, but I didn't want to do it with the others.>  
  
I whined. <Is your pack not…>  
  
She cut me off. <They're good dogs, watch my back and I theirs. Just… I'm the only bitch, they might get it with each other but if one of them took me they might think they have something special. I don't like the idea of being claimed… or of them fighting over me.>  
  
I nodded softly. <Instincts can be hard to deal with. It'll work out though, pack always does in the end. Maybe lay out some clear rules before anything happens?>  
  
<Maybe.> She said quietly, looking out over the city. <Thank you, I needed this.>  
  
<So did I, it was… very nice. Maybe we'll run into each other again?>  
  
<I hope so.> She nodded, looking back to our pressed together hips. <You about done back there?>  
  
I nodded, gritting my teeth. <Yeah, sec.> I tugged, working gently, shifting my hips back and forth, before with a pop and a gasp my knot popped free, cum pouring out of her body and pooling on the floor. Being a gentleman, I walked over and licked her clean, a favor she returned after I lifted my leg.  
  
Presentable once again, and having fabricated a story about scanning for possible stragglers, we returned to our packs, leaving the cum puddle to dry and stain the floor. I always wonder who ended up stumbling across it.  
  
+++ Sexual content ends +++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, our first big battle, and first explicit scene. This will be how future such scenes will be handled.
> 
> I won't warn of them in the summary, that would be spoiling, but they will be clearly marked in chapter. Feel free to skip and not read them, I never intend for the explicit text to be required reading. But hey, if you're into that, enjoy.
> 
> Comments of any kind are most welcome, it's nice to know people are reading and enjoying this little project.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look back into the past at how all this began.

>Some time before deployment  
>Somewhere closer to home  
  
I stepped off the bus, a small napsack of personal items slung over my shoulder, not knowing what to expect. The building looked like what I'd seen in the flyers and documentaries. Impressive, in the nondescript 'future' way that so many high tech groups were going for these days, glass domes and weirdly shaped spires and big sweeping forms and the like, sitting roughly in the middle of nowhere with nothing but trees and deer in all directions.  
  
Other new recruits were getting off the bus behind me, looking at the set of buildings before us that seemed more like a science center or pricey college campus than a military base. I think they all probably felt like I did, surprised and a little nervous. When I'd made my application I hadn't expected to become anything special, I was just a kid looking for something to do, help pay for college. I was never expecting to be tapped for Wardog training.  
  
Of course I'd dreamed about it, Wardogs were big in the news, movies, they were cool and still fairly new, who didn't at least think about being a half ton war machine that looked like a cross between a warg and a tank? But I never thought they were recruiting straight from the raw newbies, I'd always assumed you needed to be a 20 year veteran with a couple dozen missions under your belt before they'd even let you look at an application. Surprise or no, when I saw the salary was better than anything else I could hope to get, I signed up.  
  
The feeling that I'd been sent to the wrong address got stronger as we were greeted by a smartly dressed woman in a uniform that looked more like something to wear to a business meeting than the expected screaming drill sergeant.  
  
"Hello everyone, and welcome to our facility. If you'll come with me I'll show  you around and explain a little of what we do here."  
  
Feeling more like I'd shown up for a museum tour than a training facility, I followed along with the other recruits, being buzzed through the gates and walking through a large scanner before being let into the facility. It did feel more like a tech company, elegantly laid out sidewalks, little parks and fountains, crisp cool air blowing.  
  
"I know at least someone is thinking it, because someone always asks." The woman said. "Why does this place look more like an accounting firm than a military base?" She said, some of the others nodding, having thought the same. "This is a military base, and we are a military institution. But our primary focus here is research and development. Don't worry, you're all going to be in armor, but most of the noncombatants in the Wardog branch are scientists and researchers. Apart from the individual handlers working with each deployed team, Wardogs are seconded to existing deployments, so we don't really have a chain of command like the other branches do. We conduct ourselves more like a tech company, we're contracted to produce a product to the highest standards, and we do it. That product, by the way, being you all of you, and the armor you're going to be wearing."  
  
We nodded, seemed to make sense. No need to shake things up too much because there was some new tech right? Though I did wonder what made this so different that it required its own branch, but not its own command structure. Still, I wasn't the expert, so I just shrugged it off and continued the tour. She pointed out some research buildings, programming, prototyping, that kind of stuff.

 

"But the central building here is the most important, at least as far as you are concerned. It contains our primary indoor training facilities and is where you'll first suit up in your Wardog armor. There are firing ranges and other outdoor training further behind the main compound, but lots of gunfire isn't good for a research working environment, so we try to keep the more loud activities away from the base."  
  
We entered through a large lobby, before being brought into the deeper areas of the building. There were a lot of offices, a few labs and workshops and we all drew a collective intake of breath when we saw a partially assembled Wardog chassis being worked on, mechanical guts bared to see.  
  
Our guide seemed to find this amusing. "Don't worry, we'll have you suited up before nightfall if all goes smoothly, we just need to run a physical and then we'll get you right into it. You've already been approved and your psych profiles look fine. So there shouldn't be any problems."  
  
I was surprised to hear that, I'd assumed there would be a lot more training and drilling and running around before we got to touch the armor. But who was I to argue? If they wanted to give us the nicest toys to play with right away I certainly wasn't going to complain. She led us onward, showing us some obstacle courses, and we all stopped for a moment to gaze in fascination at a few Wardogs being put through their paces. These weren't the sleek, black deadly ones I saw on the shows though, they were missing their sleek battle armor and instead had boxy plating with yellow and black hazard stripes. Though there was one that looked like the real deal, prowling around the outside as the yellow and black ones went through their paces.  
  
"The yellow and black ones are trainees, like you're about to become, being overseen by one of our veterans." We watched for a few moments longer, the black dog barking loudly at the trainees as he watched them, though they seemed to be doing pretty good. So powerful, graceful, I couldn't wait to get a shot at trying that out for myself.  
  
After that there wasn't much left to see that was very interesting, certainly not as interesting as seeing real Wardogs in motion. We were split up and taken to individual waiting rooms with a light snack, waiting to be given our physicals. I wasn't sure why we were split up, but I could be patient.  
  
Eventually I was pulled out of the waiting room and taken into a medical room, again the only trainee present, a doctor coming in a moment later. "Hello trainee, I'm Doctor Richards. This won't take long but you're going to have to disrobe please."  
  
I nodded. "Yeah, sure." I turned away, fumbling for a moment before I just got it over with and stripped down. Thankfully the procedures after that weren't nearly as invasive as I'd feared for a moment. After my clothes and personal items were sealed in a little bin I went through a medical scanner, then someone else came in after I'd lain down on a table.

"Nothing to worry about." Richards said soothingly, starting to work on the little port on the back of my neck. "Just need to do some upgrades on your neural jack, needs to handle more bandwith."  
  
The neural jack was getting more and more common lately. A little port on the back of your neck with a soft magnetic latch, giving direct input to all kinds of useful programs, and allowing thought based control over compatible technology. Full mind uploading and the like were still the stuff of science fiction, but who knows how long that would be true for. Still, it wasn't exactly comforting feeling them rooting around back there, the clicks and snaps deafeningly loud inside my head.  
  
Soon though the procedure was done. "Alright, you are fully prepared. Let's get you to your chassis." I hopped up, going for my personal items, but Richards stopped me. "No no, you won't need those, just come with me." I paused, then nodded, not wanting to blow this chance, and followed along, still naked.

 

After that I was sat down in a little barbers chair and my head shaved, which didn't take long, after a shower I was led further on, heart pounding from the indignity of my situation, and the excitement of what was to come.

Finally, I laid eyes on the canine body sitting there, waiting for me, standing on all fours, covered in the yellow-black training plates. A few techies were standing around, the doctor having returned to his tasks, a young man waving me over. "You're all set, let me pop the lid for you."  
  
He tapped a few keys on a touchpad, and with a hiss the back popped open, lifting up to reveal a cramped interior compartment, lined with blue gel.  
  
"Not much room." I said, poking the soft gel. It didn't look like a cockpit of any description.  
  
The techie nodded. "No, there's not. Now I'm going to explain to you how this works, so you'll understand you're in no danger, and not panic, okay? Okay. The suit is controlled directly through your neural jack, direct mental control, no controls for your hands or feet, so you don't need to move. As such, you're going to be held completely in place. Don't worry, it's like sleeping on a cloud. The gel will receive an electrostatic charge, conforming to your body's shape and dampening all shocks and movement."  
  
I poked the gel again, it did seem quite cushy.  
  
"Now, while this suit is capable of both bipedal and quadrupedal movement, you're going to be locked in quadruped mode at first. Otherwise new trainees just walk around in biped mode and never develop proper movement skills. Also, rapidly entering and exiting the armor isn't... a good idea. Headaches, nausea, disorientation. So we're going to disable your ability to get out on your own."  
  
I looked at him sharply, and he held up a hand."Don't worry, we'll be monitoring your vitals. If you need to get out, we'll have you out in seconds. But the only way we find for people to adapt to this different of a system is to force them to stay in it until they adapt, otherwise they just keep leaving and no worthwhile training happens. Now, you're in good hands here, we invented this technology, and we're going to get you through this, okay?"  
  
I nodded. "Alright... guess I trust you then." He nodded, gesturing for me to climb in. I did so, crawling into the gel lined space and laying down, arms and legs fitting into rough grooves as a techie helped put a mask on me, breathing hose supplying air. The back of the mask had a plug that went straight into my neural jack, before a hand on the back of my head gently pressed it down into the gel.  
  
"Alright, closing the hatch, it'll be dark and still for a moment, just sit tight for a few seconds."

I would have nodded if the hand wasn't holding my head still, before it was removed and with a hiss the hatch lowered down. I flinched as the cool gel touched my bare back all at once, my ears popping as a seal was made. All was silent and still, entombed within this chassis, air coming in silent breaths through the hose over my mouth. Suddenly the gel around me tensed, squeezing, before it relaxed and... damn that was comfortable.  
  
Every part of my body was being cradled in suspension, perfectly supported. I couldn't even feel gravity anymore, it was like I was floating in a warm empty space, not touching anything. I couldn't move but that was fine, I could just hang here forever, sleep. Was I falling asleep? I could feel... something. I was drifting away, slowly, gently, carried away to...I opened my eyes slowly, seeing the tech bay ahead of me. What... had happened? Had I seriously fallen asleep in the suit and they had to pull me out? Damn, well their fault for making the thing so damn comfortable. I went to wave and say I was sorry.  
  
I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I started looking around, feeling a little scared, but the techie from before was there, walking over quickly, to lean over a little, looking me in the eye.  
  
"Hey, hey, woah, easy. Easy I said,  you're fine. It's always a little weird the first time."  
  
The first... time? My eyes widened, and I tried to look down at myself.The techie laughed. "Yes, you're in the armor. I know right? Feels like there's nothing there. We've got you locked up and your motor functions past your neck are offline, just going to ease you into this." He pushed a button and I felt myself being lifted up on a crane, dangling from my back. I looked down, seeing canine paws hanging limp below me.

"Alright, bringing locomotion online... now, move carefully."  
  
I felt a twitch, and suddenly I started moving, the little instinctive twitches of the body. I moved my arm... leg... and looked down at the paw on the end, wiggling the toes a little. I could feel them moving, like my own fingers.  
  
The techie smiled as he watched me, letting me explore a bit, slowly moving my limbs as I hung there. He walked me through some basic movements, trying to get a walk cycle down, familiarizing myself with each joint and limb. It felt easier than it should have been, I suppose there was some software that helped translate my desired motion into actual commands, easing the process.  
  
After a good half hour of hanging in the air, he slowly lowered my down to the ground, where I set down on shaky feet... paws... the cable still holding most of my weight as I started to carefully move. I took my first fumbling steps about, grinning as Is tarted to get the hang of it. It took a while, and I wobbled a lot, but eventually he unhooked the cable and let me walk. And fall with a clatter, whining loudly.  
  
That was weird. I'd tried to curse but all that came out was a loud whine. He coached me through getting up, constant little reassurances helping to ease my nerves. Eventually, after who knows how much work and practice and falling over, I managed to get a basic walk cycle down, soon trotting steadily around the room with him beside me.  
  
"We'll have you ready for a dogshow at this rate." He said with a little grin. I... wasn't sure how I felt about that, but at least I was making progress. Eventually he decided I was good, or perhaps got a call from something else, and led me off, hand on the back of my neck. It was strange, feeling so naturally like that. I knew what he was touching was metal plating and synth flesh... but it felt like he was touching my own skin.  
  
He eventually led me to a long room that looked like a barracks, though instead of beds there were just rectangular cubbies sunk into the walls with pads in them. Some of the other trainees were there, sitting around in their armors as well, though we all looked basically the same. Only size was different, each suit tailored to the wearer, but the markings were all the same so... how were we supposed to tell who was who?  
  
He led me over to an open space in front of one of the cubbies. "Now sit here." He said, waiting as I awkwardly sat like a dog, like the others. "Good." He praised, and I was proud to have figured out another thing in this strange experience. "Now stay, someone will be along soon."  
  
I nodded, watching him go, before I turned to the other trainees, trying to talk to the one next to me. All that came out was a canine 'awoo?'The one next to me and spoke back. <I dunno, I've just been sitting here.>  
  
I blinked a few times. Very deliberately saying <How long?> The noises that left my mouth weren't human speech, dog noises, slight computerized undertone. But... I knew it was language, and the other trainee responded.<Dunno, a few minutes.>  
  
That was weird, but kinda cool, we chatted for a little bit as more newcomers were led in and sat in their places, nobody good enough at walking to really go anywhere it seemed. I got more used to this strange language, translated instantly from my intention to the noises I was making. We carried on for a while longer until the door opened, all eyes turning as something other than the techie and another trainee came in.  
  
A large man in a smartly pressed uniform walked in briskly, at his heels trotting a Wardog in the full military chassis, black armor and a combination of smooth curves and hard lines, eyes looking steadily out at us from behind protective lenses. The Wardog sat by the door on his haunches, watching us steadily as the man spoke, walking slowly down the room past each of us.  
  
"I am Major Davis, I oversee all training at this facility. You are all my responsibility from this moment forward, and there are going to be a lot of changes in your life from this point forward. It will be difficult, it will strain you in ways you never thought possible. If you are worthy, then I will drag you out the other side and you will be worthy of being called a Wardog. Until then, you are mine."  
  
He reached the end, turning around to pace slowly back. None of us could take our eyes off of him. "You may have noticed that your chassis translate your speach into animalistic noises, barks and growls and such. This is to confuse the enemy, so that even if you are reduced to audible communication, they will not know what you are saying. Until training is over, your speech processor is locked in this mode, you will not be able to speak any other language, unless I or another training officer gives you permission."  
  
There was some noise at this, a little uncomfortable shifting and worried whines, it was a strange order. "Quiet." He said, stopping his pacing, not moving until we were silent again. "I do not know your names, I do not care to know them. The names you answered to no longer matter. When you graduate, you may chose your new names as Wardogs. Until then you will answer to 'dog' or 'boy'. Am I clear? Am I clear!" We weren't sure how to answer, so we nodded.  
  
He reached the end and turned around again. "Not good enough. Bark." He ordered. We looked confused. "Bark!"  
  
We let out a few half-hearted 'woofs'. If he was upset, he didn't show it easily. "Bark! Louder! When you say 'yes' you bark!"  
  
We started barking, trying to shout and yell 'yes' which seemed to work, a cacophany of barking ringing off the walls. Davis soon let out a loud 'shh!' and made a cutting motion with his hand, which shut us up like someone had just grabbed our throats.  
  
"Training begins tomorrow, I suggest you all rest well." He turned, and left.  
  
The black Wardog however, did not leave after the door closed, rising up on his paws to start walking towards us.  
  
He sniffed at the first ones he passed, letting out a low growl that did weird things to my insides.  
  
<I am Fafnir. Davis may be in charge of this base.> He began, voice a low, rumbling, purring growl, the noise a V8 engine would speak with. <But I want all of you to understand who is in charge of this pack. You may be wearing his hardware, but each and every one of you are -mine- from now until you leave here.>  
  
He prowled by me, giving me a powerful glance that made me shrink down a bit. <He may call you dogs, but to me, you are pups. Maybe you'll grow up big and strong, or maybe you'll piss yourselves and run home with your tails between your legs. So from now on, to me, you will answer to 'pup'.>  
  
When there was a tiny noise of discomfort from across the room, he wheeled around instantly to glare the offender down, growling. <Be glad you're pups. Pups might become something someday. Piss me off and you'll answer to 'bitch' from now on. Now, we're a pack, as miserable as you all are. We eat together, sleep together, run together, and if you fuck up we're punished together, which makes me very, very unhappy, and liable to punish you again myself.>  
  
He growled deeper, slowly walking around the room, sniffing and glaring at us each in  turn. I noticed the other recruits tails were ducking between their legs, and after a glance I saw mine was too. I... couldn't stop it.

Fafnir gave us another glower as he got to his own cubby. <I'm tired, and I do not want to listen to yapping pups. Keep your traps shut and go to sleep. If you wake me you'd better be on the verge of death, and if you're not I'll put you there myself.>  
  
That said, he crawled into his cubby and vanished in the shadows. We all looked at each other, head held low and ears drooping, before we crawled into our little sleeping alcoves. It wasn't tall enough to stand up in, and there wasn't enough room to lay out, so I curled up in a ball, resting my head on the meat of my own side before letting myself drift off to sleep.  
  
I woke to the sound of barking and yelping, jumping and bashing my head on the ceiling of my little alcove, whimpering in pain.

<I said get the fuck out of bed pups!> Fafnir was barking. <Get up in ten seconds or I'm dragging you out by your tails!>  
  
I scrabbled to get out of my alcove, remembering how my limbs worked before I got out and stood with the others, whining after having banged themselves and scrabbled to get out. Fafnir walked down the line, giving us all a good glare. <Not bad for pups who just learned to walk.> He growled, and I felt a little thrill in my belly from his approval.  
  
<First, we're going to eat, after that you're doing calisthenics, learn to use those bodies so maybe you'll stop tripping over yourselves.>  
  
We didn't leave after that declaration though, Fafnir just paced the room, inspecting us, watching the way we reacted to his presence. When nobody spoke for a while he sighed. <I'm a dog, not a humie, if you want to say something, say it. But be respectful or I'll put you in your place.>  
  
One of the other recruits took a nervous step forward. <If we eat first... why aren't we going to eat?>  
  
Fafnir looked to the door. <You see a handle on this side of that door?> He asked, there wasn't one. <We eat when they feed us.> Nobody wanted to say anything after that. Eventually though the door slid open, the recruits all looking up with interest as a cart was wheeled in by a uniformed man, and one by one we were all given... a bowl of dog food.  
  
I stared at the bowl I'd been given. Kibble. Dry, hard, kibble. I looked around, the others were all looking around as well, waiting for some asshole to lean through the door, laugh at the joke and give us real food. All except for Fafnir who was standing over his bowl chowing down on the kibble with loud crunches. <I advise you eat, it's the only food you're seeing until dinner, and you'll be running a lot today.> He said before going back to his food.  
  
I lowered my head to to the food bowl, sniffing it, it smelled more like chemicals than anything, and I started to eat with reluctance. I wasn't sure how Fafnir did it, scooping up the bites of food without effort, they kept falling out of my mouth. My jaws crunched the kibble up into powder and I gulped them down. It tasted... it wasn't bad exactly, it was more like the absence of good. Chemicals and nutrients and everything I'd need to survive, processed until there was no flavor left but an unpleasant aftertaste.  
  
My bowl empty, and thoroughly depressed, I looked up, Fafnir going around and inspecting us again. <That bowl is the only thing you're allowed to possess while you're here. Take care of it, you won't be given another if you lose it.> He rumbled, before sitting and looking at the door. It soon opened, and he got up without a word, snorting at us to follow him, the stragglers scarfing down the last of their kibble before they got up to stumble after him.

We ended up on the training area I'd seen earlier during thetour, though Fafnir didn't demand we do anything too complicated. Which was good because we'd just end up falling a lot. Far from the grace I'd seen others performing, we were just trying to work ourselves up to a jog without faceplanting. It was getting easier though, each lap a little more confident than the last, and I had to admit I felt a rising excitement inside me.

I had a ways to go sure but I was feeling that power, the speed, pulsing through this robotic shell like a life of its own, taking form as I pounded the track, building up a steady pace. After we seemed to get walking in mostly straight lines down, Fafnir activated recessed slalom poles, ordering us to weave in and out of them. Again there was a lot of falling and running into poles, but we adapted again, figuring out how to put weight on the suit's paws and shift our center of mass around.

I wondered how much of this was me, and how much was the suit. This kind of mental interfact had to adapt to the wearer to better serve their commands, so as I was learning how to work the armor, it was probably learning how to better understand my intentions, adapting to each other to work faster, smoother. Ideally, there wouldn't be any disconnect between armor and wearer, and that certainly helped explain the perfect grace Fafnir moved with, as naturally as if he was in his own body.

After the slaloms came vault gates, and tires to jump in and out of. I started to realize the plating we wore was indeed very important, considering the number of times we bashed ourselves against the floor, obstacles and each other, all while Fafnir barked at us for particularly inventive screwups. His reprimands made me feel ashamed and sorry, but even the smallest hint of approval picked up my spirits again and made me feel more optimistic.

Finally, he called us away. <Alright pups, enough for now before you break something important.> He growled, going over to a shallow pool and hitting a button with his paw, filling it with water. <Gather round and drink.> He said, before leaning in to start lapping up water.

I soon realized that this wasn't as much a reward as another training exercise, figuring out how to drink was even trickier than figuring out how to eat, the mouth wasn't right for just sticking your face in and sucking up water. It took a while but eventually I figured out how to scoop up water with my tongue. As I drank, I glanced around at the others, pressed close around the watering hole, bodies bumping together, tails swishing. We really did look like a pack of dogs gathered around a puddle to drink.

When we'd drunk our fill, Fafnir let us relax a little bit, going around one by one to quietly offer advice on how to solve some of the more glaring movement problems, balance and joint movement and the like, his low growling tone making it impossible for anyone else to overhear. I padded around the room, looking up at the tinted windows, wondering if anyone was looking down and watching me.

I felt a movement of air brushing over my rear. Odd, did someone open a door? I looked behind me and yelped, jumping forward about a foot, Fafnir having been sniffint at my… the armor's backside.

The big black wolf looked at me and let out a barking laugh. <Your eyes are wide as dinner plates, cute pup.> He snickered, my tail going between my legs as I turned half towards him.

<Why… did you do that?> I asked shakily.

He snickered again. <Just saying hello. You're fighting your instincts, all pups do, you won't be a dog until you learn to embrace them. If you feel a weird compulsion to do something, try it out, if it's bad I'll correct you. Training here isn't just about running and jumping and shooting, you could do all that and still not be a dog.>

I blinked, still feeling defensive, but curious despite it. <What is it about then?>

He shrugged, letting out a little almost-whine noise. <Getting in the right mindset. You have to be a dog before you can be a Wardog, any fool can shoot and run, but only the ones who embrace what the armor lets us become are worthy to be one of my kin. I could tell you were struggling with it.>

<Really? How? We haven't talked about it.> I asked, curious.

<I can smell your emotions.> Fafnir said flatly. I stared at him, not believing it. <No, really, you can tell how each other is feeling by scent, once you get used to it. You've been switching between self conscious shame and confidant excitement all day. I suppose I'll have to wring the shame out of you all somehow…>

Not quite knowing how to react to that, I just nodded, letting Fafnir walk off to chat to another pup, thinking on what he'd said.

Our physical training slowly got more ambitious after that, Fafnir moving about and helping us all deal with what we were having trouble with. After his rough introduction I wasn't expecting him to be this personable, helping the trainees improve their abilities. He only seemed to get mad when someone was making the same mistakes repeatedly, starting to call them 'bitch' angrily and snap at them, before they got it right and he started calling them 'pup' again.

Eventually we were led back to our room, tired and worn down, but having made a lot of progress, and soon our bowls were full of kibble again before we flopped down to sleep in our little alcoves, myself falling asleep almost as soon as I curled up into a ball.

The next morning was basically the same as the one before it, get up, stretch the body that was slowly becoming more familiar, choke down another bowl of kibble as Fafnir started talking about our coming day.

<We're heading outside today. You pups don't seem to be falling over at the drop of a hat anymore, so it's time to train some different skills I think.>

We perked up at that, all of us getting tired of the inside. Somehow getting out of this building felt… right. We waited for the door to be opened to let us out before we followed along with Fafnir outside the building, all of us looking up and shaking ourselves a little as we felt the cool air brushing over our bodies. I paused, lifting my nose a little to sniff, sensitive nose picking up on… well I wasn't sure what I was smelling, but it was as strong to me now as if I'd stuck my nose in a bunch of flowers.

Pine needles, tree sap, mechanical grease and vehicle exhaust, the smell of people and, more distant, animals. A confusing but enticing mess of sense data. I looked down when I heard movement, Fafnir turning to round up stragglers, me among them. <The first scents of the outdoors can be overwhelming.> He said, not seeming too upset as we gathered around. <In time, you will learn them all, and you'll wonder how you ever got by without that nose of yours. It's like you've been blind your whole lives pups.>

He let us sniff the air for a little while longer before leading us out. <Stray too far and your bodies will lock down and await retrieval. We've had a few pups who couldn't take it and tried to run off or got lost, don't be like that.>

I had been expecting some kind of difficult training exercise, like climbing a mountain or something, but this was almost restful. We walked off the trails and into the forest, roaming behind Fafnir as he led us along, pointing out scents and landmarks. I opened myself to the forest around me, the scents, sounds, the feel of the slightly moist earth beneath my paws. We paused, sniffing at deer tracks before following the herd by scent, learning how to track and navigate by our noses alone.

Eventually we found a river and our guide jumped into the cold water without hesitation, the rest of us following, learning to paddle and bathing in the river. The cold water felt amazing on my form. After a fair bit of splashing about and drinking, we got out, Fafnir watching us.

<I've noticed something of a problem with you pups.> He said, walking around us slowly, us getting a little self conscious at his inspection. <The way you move and react when touched or looked at. Shame.>

We fidgeted, looking at each other, wanting to speak up. I wasn't ashamed to be here, why should I be?

<Not shame because you've failed in some way or done somthing wrong. But simple, human shame, embarrassment.> He snorted, stepping closer. <Well pups, get this into your heads. You. Are. Not. Human.> He growled, making us shrink a little. <You became dogs the moment you put on that armor, and until you leave this place one way or another, there is no taking it off.>

We glanced at each other, letting out little whines, when he put it like that, it sounded pretty terrifying actually and… I didn't feel like taking the armor off, it was so comfortable and… Suddenly I became aware of my own body, curled up inside the suit. Or rather, I became aware of how not aware of it I was, unable to feel myself within this armor, like I was completely a thing of metal and synth flesh. A dog? No I wasn't a dog, that was just a name! I was a person damnit!

Fafnir's loud bark pulled me out of that thinking, and some others as well. <Stop thinking the ways you used to, you're pups, grow up to be good dogs, good dogs lead happy lives, believe me, you want to be that. But first, I'm going to have to help you shed your human thoughts.>

He looked around, seeming to select one trainee at random. <You, pup, piss on that tree.>

The recruit blinked. <What?!>

<You heard me.>

The pup tucked his tail between his legs, looking around at all of us as if we could save him. Fafnir growled as he just stood there, walking promptly over and biting his ear, dragging the whimpering, yelping pup over to the tree and shoving him against it. <Come on bitch, lift your leg. Fucking now!> He barked, the recruit lifting it shakily, looking like he might fall over.

Fafnir steadied him, growling in irritation as he kept demanding and ordering. None of us could look away, it was like watching your house burn down, a fascination at the bizarre train wreck playing out in front of us.

<Do it, bitch, right now, I know you need to.> He growled, before he snapped his head forward and clamped his teeth around the pup's throat. The recruit cried out loudly and… yeah… there it was.

We watched in breathless silence until it was done, Fafnir releasing the terrified and confused trainee, who stumbled around aimlessly before flopping to the ground. Fafnir lifted his leg and obliterated whatever scent mark had been left on the tree, not breaking eye contact with us as he did so. <All of you, now, unless you need my 'help' do to it.>

Nobody wanting our leader to have to literally scare the piss out of us again, we did it, shakily, nervously, in ones and twos, there in the clearing. I felt… used… sullied, unable to stop whining as I held my leg up in an awkward position. When it was done I… can't really describe how it felt, us having all gone through this bizzare experience together. I felt like I'd passed through some sacred ordeal, dirtied and insulted by it, but with a strange bond to those who had gone through the same embarrasment. What exactly do you say to each other after you've stood around and watched… this?

We didn't get the chance to say anything in the end, Fafnir hopping up on a log. He lay down lazily, resting his head on a paw, the other dangling, tail swishing idly. <You, pup.> He said, nodding to me. <Come here.>

I nodded, walking up in front of the log.

<Sit.> He said, voice almost drowsy.

I sat, settling on my haunches as the others watched.

<Good pup… lay down.>

I hesitated for a moment, before I lay down, shifting my paws.

<Roll over.> He said lazily.

I blinked. <What?>

<You know… roll over.> He said, voice disinterested. <Come on, you can do that, can't you… bitch?>

Even though the voice was gentle, the rebuke stung. I shifted my weight, rolling onto my side and kicking my legs, building enough momentum after a few tries to roll over onto my other side, settling up on my paws.

<Good bitch. Again, roll back.>

Tail twitching, I rolled the other way. He had me roll over twice more before he started calling me 'pup' again, and his little words of praise were doing weird things to my insides. Finally, he had me stop halfway through a roll, planting his paws on either side of my shoulders, keeping me from rolling over from laying on my back, looking down at my exposed black belly with a look in his eye I didn't quite know how to classify. 'Hungry' was a word that came to mind.

He said in a reassuring tone. I wasn't entirely sure of his intentions but… no matter what he'd done, he hadn't hurt us before now. In fact he could be downright nice at times, at least compared to what I heard from my cousin about his time in boot camp.

Fafnir lifted a paw and laid it on my belly, which tensed up, but he held it there until I relaxed and started stroking up and down. That… felt kinda weird, nice though, it had been a while since someone's touch made me feel like that.

He growled softly, stroking over my belly, how could a war machine have something so soft and sensitive. I glanced around his body, looking down at myself, noting with embarrassment that my tail was steadily wagging at his touch, and everyone was watching. They were all looking at my wagging tail, my belly being stroked my…

My eyes went a little wide as I saw what was between my legs, a canine sheath and a pair of balls. Why was that there!?! Why on earth would they give the armor one of that, what freak designed this thing? I whined and tried to cross my legs to hide it, and Fafnir clicked his tongue and tapped my belly.

<Relax pup, open those legs, you've nothing to be ashamed of.>

Having now drawn attention to it, the others eyes all went down to my synthetic junk when my legs slowly opened again. I looked away in embarrassment, laying my head back, Fafnir's belly flexing gently above me as he resumed his petting.

<Yes, you all have a set, as for why you do, that's something we'll get into later. You all need to learn to stop hiding yourselves. Be proud of these bodies you've been given, every single part of them.>

I glanced upward after a moment, seeing that Fafnir as well had a sheath tucked between his legs. Though any further investigation, and indeed all thought, ended when I felt his tongue licking my belly, making me let out a very happy coo and whimper, tail thumping the ground as I twitched and trembled in joy.

<Everyone… pair up, explore each other, get used to casual contact. I keep seeing how you all flinch when touched, or try to hide your underbelly or keep your tails from wagging. So we're going to keep doing this until I wring every last ounce of shame out of you. Be proud of yourselves, forget shame and privacy and social standards. You're dogs now… stop pretending to be people.>

The scariest thing was, I could feel those old standards slipping away, and as much as it terrified me to stop being a person… being a dog was starting to feel really, really good.

The next week of training was a mix of multiple styles of training. Increasingly difficult physical training in the various gyms and training courses, the pups soon getting the hang of these new bodies, running obstacle courses and engaging in steadily more ambitious stunts. Other times we walked in the woods. We learned to track by scent, eventually playing tag and hide and go seek, reveling in our ability to track down each other by scent alone.

Then, far away from prying eyes, and under Fafnir's direction, we would engage in more shows of intimacy. We soon became closely familiar with each other's bodies, having nuzzled and licked most everywhere on each other. Embarrasment at our quasi-nude state was eventually forgotten, the touches felt too good to keep worrying about it, and it was just us here right?

I couldn't help shake the growing feeling that there was something wrong with all of this, a little twinge of shame and embarrasment that made me tuck my legs and tail, even though this felt so good. I was thinking over all of this, when dinner came in, my bowl being filled with…

I stuck my nose down in the bowl, sniffing intently. Was that… meat? Meat! It smelled delicious! No that wasn't actually meat, it was kibble with preserved meat chunks. I scooped one up on my tongue. Oh… oh god… it was delicious. Well okay it was still pretty bad but after a week of flavorless kibble, even meat byproduct tasted like ambrosia. There were general sounds of excitement and happiness around the room as we scarfed down our bowls of food, Fafnir laying at the end of the room and watching with a knowing eye.

The next day we were playing in the woods again, dancing about, chasing each other by scent and careful hearing. I looked down to the ground, sniffing at the tracks I'd found, left by one of the other pups. I got his scent and trotted after him, nose low and occasionally glancing up. It was nice to have a little peace and quiet, my head had been bothering me lately. It felt fuzzy and heavy at times, I was getting headaches. Being here helped me clear that, thinking back to my family and memories beyond this place.

I came to a stop, the smell having changed. My target was close by, I knew! I was so busy looking for him, that I didn't notice the pup dropping out of the tree until he was slamming into me.

<Gotcha!> He growled loudly, knocking me aside.

I skidded to a halt in a fighting stance, growling. <Only get one surprise attack!> I barked back, grinning. The energy coursing through me was fantastic, I felt so powerful, and a fight? Even a play fight got my motor running these days.

He barked and jumped at me again, but this time I was ready, rolling and kicking, his snapping jaws passing by my face, missing by inches. I used his momentum against him, kicking him hard as he went by, sending him skittering with a heavy thump into a tree.

<Haha! Luck doesn't beat skill it seems!> I teased, prancing a little as I turned to see the canine dusting himself off. He was about to say something, when with a creaking, splintering noise, the tree started to fall, weakened by the impact I'd thrown into it.

<Look out, move!> I barked, backing up and then diving to the side as the tree came down, hearing a loud yelp and a painful sounding 'pop'.

For a moment, I thought he was dead, getting up from the ground to look. But the pained whining and cries of my fellow, and his terrified flailing showed he was still alive.

<Oh shit, oh shit shit!> I muttered, jumping over the fallen log to look at the damage. The log had fallen on one of his front legs, twisting it, I could see it was at an odd angle. <Are you okay?> I asked, though he clearly wasn't.

<My leg's broken!> He whimpered, tugging at it. I put a paw on him.

<No, no don't yank it, I'll get the log off of you.> He nodded, and I threw my shoulder into the tree. <Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't think the tree would fall over.>

<Just get it off of me!> He whined, trembling as the tree groaned. Eventually he was able to extract his leg, one of the joints snapped and hanging limply. He whimpered sadly, examining the damaged limb.

<It… it doesn't hurt… exactly…> He said morbidly, watching the limb dangle there.

I looked at him, ashamed I'd accidentally caused this, before laying down. <Come on, lay over my back a little, I'll help you walk back.>

<Are you sure? We've never done anything like this.>

<I can do it, come on, let me get you home.> I said, giving him a sincere look. He nodded, shifting his weight to lay part of his front end over my back as we started slowly walking back, raising up to howl in distress as we went.

<I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.> I whimpered, my companion laying on my back heavily, but limping along as best he could.

<It's fine… fine… they'll fix it, it feels bad but… it doesn't hurt… I think it just hurt a joint.>

I thought for a moment. I'd forgotten for a moment, this was all mechanical, there would be no reason to actually have blinding pain, that wouldn't be useful. But… I actually had forgotten That these bodies were not truly our own. When had that happened? Was this thing worming its way into my mind? The whines of my injured friend pulled me out of that, carrying him further towards the base.

Fafnir found us on the way back, worrying over his injured pup, compassionate in a way he often didn't let us see, and I had to admit it was comforting to see him in this crisis. He helped me carry the pup back to base, ruling the injury to be not too dangerous, at least not in a safe environment like this. A broken leg in combat would be another matter entirely.

The injured pup was soon strung up in a lab, hanging from his back harness as some engineers worked on his leg, removing bundles of synth muscle and inspecting the damaged joint. One of them walked over to me.

"Hey there, Fafnir told us you were the one who brought him back." He said with a grateful expression.

I tried to tell him I'd also been the one to cause his injuries, but remembered I couldn't speak english, only make whining noises.

"Aww, it's alright boy." The engineer said, smiling comfortingly. "Your friend is going to be okay." He started petting my head, stroking me gently.

His words were comforting, caring, smile earnest and genuine. His hand stroked over my warm head, ruffling my ears as it went. It felt so good, so very good, and that's why I was overcome with revulsion, pulling back with a little growl.

The engineer looked surprised, pulling his hand back, scared for a moment. I… felt terrible, having scared him, he was helping my friend, and thanking me, why should I scare him?

"You okay boy?" He asked again, gently reaching out to run his hand down my back, petting me some more. So good, it was so damn good, I could just melt and… I turned and briskly walked away, ignoring the tech's confused words calling after me. I was not a pet, I was a person, a soldier in training, I did not whimper and melt when someone stroked me, and no matter what I looked like right now I was not a damn dog to be cooed over and petted, how dare he?

I marched off through the compound, still confused and upset.

The injured recruit was back the next day, leg good as new. They'd just replaced some of the mechanisms in the joint and zipped him back up, right as rain, the guy coming over to me after breakfast. He bumped right against me, rubbing his nose against my neck.

<Hey, hey what are you doing man!> I asked, pulling away from the pleasant contact.

<Just thanking you for helping me yesterday, it wasn't your fault the tree fell. Man those people are so nice! They petted me and gave me treats to cheer me up!>

I nodded, looking back to my food, munching on my kibble. <That's uh… real good I guess.> I muttered, letting him trot off happily.

Fafnir came walking down the center aisle, looking us over as he moved. I had to admit there was something fascinating about watching him move, every flex of muscle and sway of his joints belying the perfect familiarity with his synthetic body. He wasn't just good at moving it, he was comfortable in it, the way he arranged his legs when he lay down, or the way his tail swished as he walked.

In a strange way, it was attractive, the way he carried himself. Absolute confidence but without the boorish need to prove how unafraid he was like so many pricks had, throwing their weight around just for the satisfaction. Fafnir may have busted our asses and dragged pups around by the ears from time to time, but he only did that in the effort to train us and get us to do it right, not because he felt he needed to take it out on one of us. I kinda wish I could feel that confidence, and I wondered if it was real or an act.

He glanced over at me, seeing how I'd been staring at him and I quickly buried my nose in my kibble, not looking up again until he'd moved on. Soon we were out jumping about in the gym, diving in and out of hoops and jumping across poles, climbing, jumping, diving and spinning.

We'd gotten good, Fafnir was better, occasionally showing us how it was done, dancing and twisting through the obstacles like it was effortless. Taking a break for a moment, I padded over to the water trough and started lapping up some water, seeing a technician taking notes as he watched the displays nearby. "Thirsty work eh boy?" He asked, looking down at me.

I grumbled a little as he watched, drinking my water after a particularly tasking performance that had almost seen me plummet to the floor. I tensed, back arching slightly as I felt his hand stroking my neck, scritching gently. Oh damn he knew how to use those fingers, scratching at the synth flesh under the lip of the plate.

I glanced up at him, but he didn't even look away from his pad, flicking through some notes or whatever, not even sparing me a glance as his hand teased out tension in the black flesh, drawing out a little whine. I pulled away from his touch, going to walk away, afraid I might just sit there forever and soak up his touch.

"Boy, come." He said softly, making me freeze in place. I turned back to him, the tech looking at me with a patient, expectant gaze. "Come." He said, firmly, pointing at his feet. I walked over, sitting down warily.

"You've done quite well here, your scores on our various tests all show a lot of promise." He said with a smile, reaching down to pet my head, ruffling my ears in a way that felt too damn good. "You need to work on your attitude a bit though, I'd hate to see you become antisocial. I might sign you up for a bit of therapy, nothing bad!" He quickly assured me, scratching behind my ear, making me shudder a little.

"Alright, someone will get you if I decide you need it, run along and play now, good boy." He said, the pride and care in his voice tying my insides in knots as I rushed off, needing to get away from his confusing presence.

I must have been fairly obvious, because I soon heard a familiar rumbling growl. <You look toubled, pup.> Fafnir said, walking up beside me.

I hung my head, looking away. <Not feeling so good.>

He sniffed at me. <You don't smell sick, you smell upset.>

My tail hung a little as we walked on together. <I keep feeling bad when they treat me like a…>

<Dog?> He asked, not sounding upset like I'd expected.

<That guy wanted to sign me up for therapy. I don't need therapy.>

I froze, trembling as Fafnir licked my cheek. <Everybody says that, you should go, it really helped me when I was new.>

He gave me a little nod before walking off, leaving me conflicted and confused, glancing up to watch him slink away over to the tech, giving him a little bark and laying at his feet. The tech, sitting on a bench, petted him idly as the black dog watched his pups train, and I soon joined them, trying not to think about it.

Turns out that they did sign me up for therapy, someone fetching me after I'd eaten breakfast, leading me through the halls. I wasn't sure what to expect, my mind conjuring up images of cigar chomping germans with monocles. Though I did snicker at the image of a half ton metal canine lounging on one of those head-shrink sofas.

The room I was eventually led into was completely different than what I'd been picturing. It was totally unlike the rest of the building, which was all slick steel, glass and polished

granite. This room has thick carpeting and the walls were painted a relaxing blue. There were bookshelves, a TV sitting opposite a big cushy couch, and an almost comically huge version of a doggie bed. I eyed it warily… it looked extremely fluffy.

The door behind me opened after I'd poked around for a few minutes, and a young woman walked in. Like the room, she looked severely out of place. Instead of a uniform or lab outfit, she wore jeans, sneakers and a hoodie. "Hey there." She said, walking over, bending at the hip to lean over me a little, though she didn't touch me, keeping her hands in the pockets of her shirt.

"I'm Jamie, I'd ask your name but I know you can't speak. I really think they should give you little nametags, but I can usually tell you all apart. Body language, you know." She said, walking past my confused self to sit down on the couch.

She laughed at my obviously confused expression, head tilted a little as I looked at her. "Not what you expected, huh? Well, good then. I'm not some head shrink who's going to ask you a bunch of questions and pick apart every word you say, like I said, you can't talk. So I won't push or question you. That's not why you're here."

She waved her hand, inviting me over with a warm smile, and I took a few steps closer. "I am here, to help you have a good time." She said simply. "I can tell, you're stressed and worried and conflicted. And this is a safe place where you can be comfortable. Nothing we do here leaves this room, and nothing that happens in here has any bearing on your standing or performance on this base."

I nod, understanding, it sounded like a pretty appealing idea actually. It'd all been either sleeping in the common room, or training with the group. The closest I got to relaxing was when I stole a little personal time out in the woods. She seemed friendly and, more importantly, she wasn't part of this whole slick training program. I nodded again, tail wagging a little as I cheered up.

She beamed, and my heart melted a little. "Great! Well, I've booked you for basically the whole day, so what do you want to do? There's lots of books here, but I'd have to read them to you because of your paws. I've got a lot of DVDs here too so we could watch some movies?"

That all sounded really, really appealing. I thought about it a little bit before I went over and nosed the TV cabinet.

"Movie time it is!" She said, going over to get a few movies out, holding them out for me to inspect. I ended up bumping the box to a harmless looking comedy with my nose and she popped it in, dragging the big pet bed around to the front of the couch. "Bet that's a lot comfier than the beds you get in the den."

I prodded it, it was indeed very fluffy and soft, and with a grumpy little huff I figured that comfort was better than dignity. Besides, this was all a secret right? So I lay down on it, soon surrendering to the fluffy comfort as the movie started rolling, Jamie sitting down on the couch, her legs near my head. I could smell her perfume, like the flowers in the mountains I ran through with the pack.

The movie was nice, and I chuckled as I lay there, watching. I felt like I was back home almost, lazy saturday, though I wasn't laying on a pet bed at the time. I glanced up at the couch she was on, Jamie looking down at me. "Nah, stay off the furniture boy."

I snorted, shifting my position a bit and getting comfy, laying down and watching. She seemed to be enjoying it too, her scent changing subtly as we watched. She didn't do much of anything as the movie went on, laughing along with me and just sitting there. I felt better when the movie was over, looking up as there was a knock on the door as the credits rolled.

"Just a sec boy." She said, lightly patting my side before going to the door, me watching from the bed. She got something from outside then brought it back in, setting it down as my eyes zeroed in on it. Meat, red, raw, delicious smelling on a little plate.

"I know that kibble you get isn't very good, so I got you something nicer." She said cheerfully, and I quickly got up, going over to the meat. Jamie giggled as I stuck my nose down to the plate, the meat was raw but seasoned lightly. Oh, it was delicious, and I quickly snapped up the meat, trying to savor it before gulping it down.

 

"Hehe, you're all so adorable when you're happy, that tail." She said, scratching my neck a bit and ruffling my ears, just for a moment, before she let me eat in peace. When I was done, she asked me what else I might like to do, and before long she was sitting on the floor next to the doggie bed reading a book I'd chosen, she did have a very nice voice. I slipped into her lap a bit, looking at the words as she read them.

I liked reading, it made me feel like a little kid being read to, but it was kinda nice at the same time, one of her arms wrapped around my big neck, my paws on her lap. Eventually I just got tired of reading and lay my head down in her lap, listening to her voice until I drifted off to sleep.

The next few days were weird, but enjoyable. The usual training continued, but I'd often go spend an hour or more with Jamie in the cozy little room, working through the book she was reading or watching movies. The food kept coming, delicious meat and other treats on the tray that moved closer and closer to the couch each passing day.

I remained confused on many things, my feelings for my future as a Wardog, the twinges of something that might have been envy, or something else, as I saw Fafnir move with his confident grace as I felt myself stumble, and more things I couldn't quite hold onto long enough to understand.

I choked down my morning kibble, glad they'd given us the kind with little meat bits today, glancing up as Fafnir's black paws padded past me. His scent drifted across my nose, getting more sensitive and skilled by the day, my eyes drifting over his form. We were all starting to move more like him, more comfortable in these forms, no longer moving like we were controlling a machine, but simply walking around. Still, the totally effortless way he moved was impressive, synthetic muscles rippling under the smooth skin covering. He caught me staring and I quickly went back to breakfast.

We were out in the woods again that day, tracking scents and practicing survival skills, long distance communication without radios, tracking each other over the foothills and mountains, and attempting to avoid being hunted down by each ohter. Fafnir walked beside me for a bit, sniffing at me.

<The therapy's been helping.> He said simply, and I nodded, looking to him.

<Not sure what it's supposed to do exactly… but it's nice. Just… relax I guess?>

 The black wolf nodded. <That's part of it, true. Just roll with it, it'll make sense in the end.>

 I thought back to how he suggested the idea to me. <So… you had to have it too?>

 He was quiet for a moment, but nodded. <Yes. I recognized a bit of my old self in you, I could smell your emotions in turmoil.

 Why did you chose to become a Wardog?>

 I shrugged. <The pay was good, and I qualified for it. And I always thought it was an amazing opprotunity. I mean, the things you hear about on the news or read about them doing, I wanted to do that for myself.>

 Fafnir nodded. <I see. That would explain it, you wanted the benefits of being one of us, without really understanding what that means. I was similar, you have to understand that being what I am, is a lot more than a job. It's… a way of being. One that I've come to embrace.>

 <And… what if it's not one that I want to embrace?> I asked carefully, knowing this was a subject seemingly near and dear to my trainer's heart.

 Fafnir considered for a long moment. <I think it would be a shame, because I think you could make a fine Wardog someday, pup.> His words filled me with a swell of tingly, giddy pride.

 <But if you truly don't want this, then there is no shame in that. You can't be one of us if you don't want to be, and there's no shame in being human.>

 <Do you not think of yourself as human then?> I was curious.

 He shrugged this time. <I try not to think about it. I hardly ever leave the armor, I don't like to. I like the role I play and the way I'm treated. I don't have to deal with all the bullshit the people do, paperwork and taxes and red tape. I let my handlers point me at a problem, and I deal with it. If I succeed, I get rewarded, if I fail, I am comforted and healed.>

 <Sounds like there's not much of any freedom in that kind of life.>

He shook his head. <Depends on how you look at it. Freedom to travel where you want, or do whatever you like? No. But then nobody in the military really has that. But I'm free from all the niggling little worries that bother people. I know what my purpose is, I know I'm valued and my masters appreciate me, and that's all I need. I'm cared for, respected and prized, and my masters show me their affection. My packmates, when I have them, are all the companionship I could ever need. So… no I don't have much freedom. But at the same time, I'm completely free.>

 I looked down at the ground as we walked, quiet for a while as I thought about that. I was conflicted again, that statement more or less outlining my own internal conflict. I wanted to feel good about this, and that kind of carefree life appealed to me. But was it really worth giving up everything I'd gotten used to, the social conventions, standing, customs I'd grown up in. I couldn't be both, couldn't live both lives, and just the description of what Fafnir's life was like was twisting my insides in maddeningly pleasant ways. But could I really give up my personhood, for that?

 Fafnir gave me a long look, sniffing at me, probably picking up on my discomfort. <I'll give you some time to think, but don't take too long to decide, my masters won't wait forever for you to decide. In or out, you're going to have to make a choice. I can't tell you what to do, it's your life. But whatever it is, make sure it's not a choice you're going to regret.> He bumped against me once, letting the contact linger for a moment before he trotted off, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The next day I was back in Jamie's room, watching a movie on the bed. She was sitting on the floor next to me, leaning her back against the couch and resting her hand on my side. It felt nice… I guess. She cared about me, and that felt good.

 "Oh, excuse me, food's here." She said, getting up at a knock to get the usual bowl of meat from the door, coming back over to sit next to me again. Oddly, she didn't put the food on the floor like she usually did, but held it in her arm. "You hungry boy?" She asked, looking down at me with a smile.

 I cocked my head a little at the behavior, letting out a questioning little whine. She just smiled.

 "So how have you been doing?" She asked, stroking her hand gently along my side. I fidgeted a bit, not sure what to do, I couldn't talk.

 "Come on, tell me, you're bothered by something."

 I huffed. <Well it's… I've been having these weird feelings lately.> I began, not sure what the point was. She looked down from the movie, paying attention, giving me a nod. <It's… I'm not sure what I want anymore. I mean all this stuff we've been doing fels really nice it's just…>

 She nodded. "Uh huh, I see. Keep talking."

 <Well it's that… I mean I really really feel good when we do this together, but I kinda feel ashamed by it as well, it makes me feel bad later but I still really like it and… and I just don't know what I should do anymore. I mean I don't want to stop being a person, but being a dog is starting to feel really good!>

 "Yeah, uh huh, tell me all about it, good boy." She said, starting to pet between my ears, egging me on.

 <And I like being here and I want to be a Wardog, and I want to do good and be praised for being good because that makes me feel really good, but I don't know if I do what I'll be anymore, or if I'll stop being…>

 I went on like that for a while, yammering and yowling about my problems as she patiently nodded and encouraged me, petting me a bit more and more as time went on, stroking between my ears and gently rolling me to the side so she could rub my belly, which made me melt and twitch a little. Eventually I just ran out of things to say… and realized she hadn't understood a word of it, but she still nodded and petted me.

 "I'm glad you told me all that, it's good to tell me your problems, being honest is important. In fact, I think you deserve a reward."

 I sat up at that, ears perking. A reward? I liked rewards.

 She held up the bowl of meat, and I quickly fixated on that, leaning in. Jamie tapped me firmly on the nose, making me pull back as if I'd been smacked by a hot iron, blinking.

 "No, not this time." She said firmly, taking one piece of meat from the bowl and holding it out towards me.

 I looked at the meat, then to her. "Go on, take it." She said, smiling. I leaned in, slowly, before grabbing the meat from her fingers and pulling back to eat. She let me finish, then leaned in to do it again, this time holding it in her palm, making me scoop it up with my tongue. It felt… weird, being hand fed. But… she did this because she cared about me, right? Yes. That was right, she cared about me and I would do what she wanted, because I liked her and I was good about that. This made sense. Besides, I liked treats, it was so much better than the kibble we were usually fed. I eventually finished the bowl, one bit at a time, and we settled in to watch another movie, my head in her lap.

Two days later, we finally got to go to the shooting range and put some lead on target. Everybody was excited, we'd all been wanting to shoot our guns and put these weaponized bodies to the test. Fafnir knew how impatient we'd all been and had been watching us with some amusement as the techies got us all set up, keying in our weapons systems and explaining how it all worked at great length, before they finally released us to shoot some things.

 The augmented reality targeting system was cool, the system would let me target pretty much without effort, at least with the weapons that were set up to use them. To be honest I barely even noticed the AR overlays that filtered my entire vision anymore. I looked at something, and it was now just... expected that he would also see a technical specification of what it was, and know to within a millimeter exactly how far it was from his snout. The number and sophistication of the sensors on the Wardog body was actually shocking, LIDAR, RADAR, ultrasonics. He could 'see' in all directions in one form or another, he hadn't really noticed until now, it just felt natural.

 Finally though we got our guns, black ARs with big helix magazines, strapped onto their back racks. They spread out on the firing range, learning how to use the guns. The easiest way was to just tie it into your sight, like the helmet gunsight on an attack chopper, the gun aiming exactly where you were looking. A digital line of AR graphics popped up on his vision, showing firing angle, bullet drop calculations, distance to target, automatically compensating for everything from range to observable wind conditions. It was pathetically easy to start sinking shots into the human shaped targets when the range was cleared hot, ammo counter on my vision ticking down.

 More tricky was independent targeting. The gun had a special sighting system on the top rail, looked like a fancy scope. You could use it like that but it was also a camera sensor, one more to add to the pile. An extra set of eyes you could aim with, able to shoot off at something while not even looking at it with your main eyes. It was... weird, looking one way while also looking somewhere else, but my mind seemed to be accepting it, building a more three dimensional sphere of awareness. I was no longer limited to seeing what was right in front of me, that's just where my vision was best.

 I'd shot plenty of guns before, so maybe I had an upper hand on some of the other recruits. Fafnir put up a scoreboard, rubbing our noses in the dirt a little as he started picking off multiple targets in rapid succession with repeated bursts from dual rifles, able to track and target at frankly shocking speeds, his shooting looking more like a naval point defense system than anything else.

 Focus, focus, I'm one of the best shots. Speed and accuracy that's what counts. I quieted my mind, letting the targeting data flow through me. Shoot, shoot, track, lead target, start planning your next shot while your current ones are still leaving the barrel. It was like a zen trance, no thought, pure action, no mistakes.

 Hit, hit, hit, my score was going higher, it was hard to keep calm, my stance wide and stable, unblinking mechanical eyes sweeping for targets. I stopped worrying about score, just focusing on shooting, target after target. The ammo counter went into 10% remaining, going from warning yellow to red, before finally clicking empty, smoke rising from the barrel. I looked up and suddenly all thoughts of professionalism vanished.

 High score! I got high score! Except for Fafnir of course... But high score! I yipped and jumped about, tail wagging furiously. The range went cold as the others ran out of ammo shortly after, instead of being upset they ran over to congratulate me, barking and jumping around me as I howled in excitement. Fafnir laughed, trotting over, his twin ARs silent on his back.

 <Nice job pup.> He congratulated, pushing close to give me a big lick on the cheek that turned my insides to butter. That felt so good, so damn good. Fafnir laughed again, giving me a nuzzle. <You should go tell her, she'll want to know.> He said, pushing past me and rubbing alongside for a moment, the tease. But he was right, Jamie had to know how good I was!

 Permission given I went racing off through the corridors to the cozy room, pushing the door open and going in. Jamie was there, jumping a bit as she looked up from her computer. "What is it boy?"

 I barked happily. <I was the best shot out of all the recruits!> I yapped excitedly, knocking a book off a table with my tail in excitement.

 She laughed, getting up and going over. "Oh yeah? You must have done really well!" She said, starting to pet my head. That felt nice, ooooh~ She was rubbing behind my ear, making my legs go weak.

<Yeah, yeah! I shot all my targets and had the best accuracy rates of any of them! Fafnir said I did a good job, and everyone else was so happy for me! It felt so good to finally get to shoot stuff.>

 I panted a bit as she praised me some more, petting my head, tail thumping behind me. There... was something odd about this. I felt great, yes, but... something off as well. I... should I be acting like this? Sure it was a good job but I wouldn't normally gush like this to someone, and... she was petting me like a dog. I was a dog. At least, I was becoming a dog... Did I want to be a dog? I remembered what Fafnir had told me, that I'd have to make a choice. I... was this time time I had to chose? Did I want to be a dog? It... felt so good though, so good. My heart hammered deep in my chest, body trembling, this all felt so right, so good. But that was what scared a part of me, a part that was getting smaller and quieter the more Jamie petted my head.

 "What's wrong boy, you got quiet. Come on, you did good! You should be a big happy puppy." She said with a smile, scratching right behind my ear.

 Oh... oh god, that felt so good, so fucking good. One of my front legs wobbled, then it collapsed, folding beneath me as I rolled over on the floor. My front paws went up onto my chest, my bottom legs spread a little.

 "Hehe, someone wants belly rubs~" Jamie teased, getting down on her knees to rub my big black belly.

 This was bliss, knocking on heaven's door, I don't remember sex ever being this good. <I... I... I'm...> I whimpered.

 "Come on boy, what is it? speak for me."

 <Immadog!> I yipped. <I'm a dog! Oh god, oh fuck yes that feels so good, I wanna be a dog, can I be your dog please? Oh god just keep petting me!> I yelped in rapid succession, and the tiny part of my mind that felt shock and revulsion at what I'd become finally dissolved completely, replaced by the bliss and joy of this perfect moment.

 "Good boy! Such a good boy for me, I'm so proud of you." Jamie said with a smile. I think she knew what had happened, a tiny part of me wondered how many dogs she'd broken like this, but the rest of me didn't care, I only cared that this felt good, and that she was happy with me.

 "Say it again boy. Keep saying it for me." She said softly, scratching in juuuust the right place to make one of my legs spasm uncontrollably.

 <I'm a dog.> I said, happy to say anything to keep her petting going. <I'm your good dog, and I want to be a dog forever! I'll do anything just keep being happy with me please!>

 It went on like that for a while, before we settled in to watch a movie together. I didn't care about the pictures and noises on the screen very much, I just wanted to spend time with the human, laying at her feet and rumbling now and then, her petting my ears from time to time. When I left, Fafnir was curled up outside the door, and gave me a little look over.

 He chuckled, knowing that an armored human had gone into the room, and a dog had come back out. <Good work today... wardog.> He said, giving me a lick on the cheek. His praise made me think my heart might burst in my chest.

 I moved out of the pup barracks after that, getting my own little room, moving on to the advanced training. Fafnir finally explained to me that the whole basic training scheme wasn't about teaching us to operate the chassis we were in, it was about teaching us how to become dogs, and how to stop being people. I agreed with that, it felt a lot better to be a dog, I was glad he'd helped me learn.

 Yes, we became lovers, it was pretty casual. I'd not really thought about being with men before but... it just felt right, and he was a damn sexy dog, what can I say? When he made a move on me, I just went limp and let him take me out to the woods and mount me.

The other pups eventually made it as well, learning to kick off the dregs of their humanity and follow in my example, losing the remains of their old beliefs and habits at long last. I congratulated a couple of them with a roll in the hay, or just going to the woods and playing. After we became dogs, the training intensified, and we learned how to become dogs of war. Tactics, combat, weapons qualifications and combat specialties. A few months of shooting, mock fighting, combat training, and growly rutting sex, I honestly didn't really think about it ending. Of course, eventually it did.

 I was laying on the concrete outside, the day a bit overcast, some rain puddles on the ground. I was in my new body, no longer restrained to the blocky training model which was covered in hazard stripes, now I was a sleek, dark war machine. I even had my name, Fenris, decided it when I'd written back to my family.

 The humans couldn't really understand what had happened to me, or what I was now, and I wasn't really one of them anymore. But they were my family, and I still loved them. Maybe I'd get to go home on leave eventually, it would be nice to curl up on the rug in front of the old fireplace at dad's feet, yeah that'd be nice.

 I perked up a bit when I heard voices, a human and Fafnir's synthetic voice speaking english.

 "So he's a good shooter then?" The human asked.

 "One of the best. Not really a specialist at anything, but he's fast and smart, and he's one of the best general combatants we have." Fafnir responded, I could hear them getting closer.

 "Good, my pack is a dog down and we're deploying before long, is he good to go?"

 "Yes, he's ready whenever you need him. Which is now I assume."

 I finally saw the two walking closer, making me look up from the rebar I'd been gnawing on. Fafnir of course, and... a human I hadn't seen before. She was tall, blonde, but what struck me most about her was how she moved. She walked with a brisk, direct pace, feet ringing in the pavement. Her back was straight, chin up, it was the kind of walk that would make a crowd of people just part in front of you through force of will. She walked right up to me, and I sat up on some reflex, feeling a heavy weight pressing on my shoulders.

 "Your trainer says good things about you." She said, after looking me over for a moment. "Fenrir. Hmm. My pack is a shooter down and you're the replacement, we leave immediately."

 I didn't move, I didn't know if I should.

 "Respectful boy, that's good, I don't have time to break you in. But you shouldn't be afraid of me, if you do your job and stay respectful, I'll be good to you, as long as you obey."

 I glanced up, giving her a little nod.

 She held out her hand, showing me the back of it, right in front of my face. "Lick." She commanded, though her voice was soft. I licked, dragging my tongue over her warm skin, her taste and scent ingraining into my mind, mixing with her dominant position over me.

 "Good boy." She said softly, and petted my ears, which lightened the mood a bit. She kept petting me, using her other hand to gently grip my chin. Though she barely applied any pressure at all, I couldn't resist lifting my gaze up to meet hers.

 There was a little smile on her face as she looked down into my eyes. "I am packmaster." She said, a voice that was deafening despite being so soft. "And from this day forward. You. Are. Mine."

 I whimpered happily, tail wagging, because in my heart and soul, I knew I always would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, college started, some personal crap happened, didn't feel like writing.
> 
> Not sure when I'll continue this, but it will be continued.
> 
> Feedback would be very much appreciated, I hope you're all enjoying this.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback much appreciated, and any suggestions or ideas for future installments will at least be considered, so let me know. I'm pretty excited about this idea and think it has a lot of potential to make an interesting story, and I'm happy to write as long as there is interest in the idea.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Wardogs - Dogshow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8019898) by [Snekdog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snekdog/pseuds/Snekdog)




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